Chapter 9 - Engage.

Engage: To occupy, attract or involve someone's interest or attention.

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Justin's POV

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"Hey, Blue Eyes," Brian's low toned voice nudges me awake. "I'm going to go take a shower and then finish up some work, okay? You don't have to get up - I just wanted you to know where I was. You just stay here and sleep some more, if you want."

I nod, allowing my eyes to drift closed again. Before Brian gets up though, he rolls into me, mashing his cock against my hip. He is incredibly hard.

"That's to remind you how much I don't want you, Sunshine," he teases, leaving a small chaste kiss on my forehead before he rolls away and gets up.  

He expects me to get back to sleep after that?

I hear the water coming on in the shower. I hear sounds of traffic from the street below the loft. These are comfortable, homey noises and I'm worried I'm becoming too used to them already. I did agree to stay for one more day, though.

That's when I hear the door buzzer ringing. Brian's still in the shower. So, I quickly get up and run over to the intercom to answer it.

"Hey there, baby. It's Em! Buzz me up, Scottie!" is the response I get, so I press the button to release the door and let this interesting friend of Brian's in.  

"Justin, sweetie, I have to apologize for earlier," Emmett starts right in. "Teddy and I were just being catty, you know. Both of us love Brian. He's really a great guy and ultra generous. And there's no way Teddy meant what he said - he adores Brian. Brian has helped Ted out of some really tough spots in the past, you know. It's just that we all have this image of Brian as one thing and it's hard to let that image go enough to see the real person behind the image sometimes. So, bottom line, just ignore all the shit you heard us talking this morning, okay Baby. We're just a couple of nasty gossiping queens and you shouldn't listen to a thing we said."

"I can vouch for the part about them being nasty gossiping queens, Sunshine," Brian adds as he pads out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his slim hips.  

"Oh? And like you've never been heard gossiping over a beer or two at Woody's, Mr. Kinney?" Emmett teases.

"That's different,". Brian returns. "All I ever gossip about is who's fucking who and how big their cocks are. That's not even really considered gossip between queers, just vital statistics."

"Well, whatever floats your boat, honey. Now, let's get down to real business - Emmett Honeycutt, personal shopper extraordinaire, here to spend your money with wild abandon," Emmett announces with a small bow and a flourish of his hand. "All I need is your directions on where you want it spent."

Brian walks to the counter and retrieves his wallet as he speaks. "Well, to start with, Justin needs clothes and shit. I only got him a few things the other day - enough to get him home from the hospital. But he's definitely going to need more.  At least a couple weeks worth - and don't forget to get him a better coat - the one you've got now Sunshine is so thin it wouldn't keep out a light summer breeze, let alone the type of arctic blast we've been getting lately. Just get him everything - but, hold back on the Emmett Honeycutt flame a tad, okay. The boy needs clothes he can actually wear out in public, you know.  

"Don't worry, Brian. I would never hold a neophyte like our boy here to MY fashion standards." Emmett confirms.  

"I was going to send Justin along with you to share in the fun, but after hearing about all the shit you're talking about me, I'm not sure you can be trusted," Brian adds as he hands his credit card over to Em.

"I already apologized for that, Brian," Emmett responds, sounding hurt and embarrassed at the same time.  

"Well, the man of the hour should get the final say, anyway. So, Sunshine, did you want to join Emmett's shopping extravaganza or just hang out here?" Brian asks, looking in my direction.

"Brian, I don't really need any clothes," I protest, already knowing though that it's futile to resist.

"Yes. You do, Justin. See, my cleaning service only comes twice a week and I hate doing laundry. So, if you don't get more clothes, either we'll have to be doing laundry daily or we'll have to have the service come every other day. Either of those options will just make me grumpy. Therefore, the best alternative is to just get you more clothes." Brian explains.  

"But, for only one day?"

"Please let me do this for you, Sunshine," Brian leans into me and whispers in my ear, and I find I just can't say no.

"Good." Brian states when he sees I'm not going to object. "So, what do you want to do? Are you going to join Honeycutt on his shopping adventure or stay here?"

"Stay?"

"Looks like you're on your own, then, Honeycutt. Make sure you get his sizes before you go." Brian directs. "And, when you're done with the new wardrobe, we need food too. All I have in the fridge is beer and poppers, neither of which are on the reccommended foods list the doctor sent home for our patient here. Get everything you think we'll need, Honeycutt. But make sure it's mostly on the healthy side. He doesn't need empty calories. Anything in particular you like, Sunshine?"

Who me? I'm so overwhelmed already that I can barely manage to shrug, let alone add to this ridiculous shopping list.

"Okay, clothes and food. No problemo, señor. Anything else?" Emmett asks.

"That's enough for now," Brian says, dangling the keys to the Jeep over Em's open palm. "If I think of anything more, Honeycutt, I'll call you."

"Don't call me Honeycutt, Brian," Em demands, then turns to me. "Last chance to change your mind, Sweetie? No, well then, I'm off! See you boys later. So long."

"Don't wreck my Jeep, Honeycutt!" Brian yells after the retreating, chortling figure. "Oh wait, I just thought of one more thing."

Brian runs out to the landing and stops Em, but I can't hear what he's adding since I've already headed off to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

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Brian's POV

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By the time Emmett arrived, I was already starting to think about what I needed to accomplish today for work and how I could incorporate the fantastic drawing Justin had made yesterday into the campaign. I'd been thinking of a couple ways I could revamp the multimedia spots to include the logo design. The boy's art skills were therefore still at the forefront of my thoughts when they were interrupted by discussions about Emmett's shopping extravaganza.

The images of that artwork, unsurprisingly popped back up when Em asked if there was anything else he could get while he was out. Maybe that was a way I could further connect with the kid. If I could get him to believe that his artwork was as good as I knew it to be, hopefully he would start to feel that he was worthwhile as a person too. Anyway, it was worth a try. So, at the last moment I ran after Emmett and told him to add some art supplies to his list.

After we get Emmett on his way, I go back into the loft and look around to find where Justin has hidden himself. Justin is one of the quietest men I've ever known. He has a peacefulness about him that manifests itself as a profound sense of utter quiet. So, even when you know he's in the house you still sometimes feel compelled to look around for him just to make sure.  

This is one of those times. I have to scan the room twice before I finally realize he is sitting at the kitchen island waiting patiently for me. When I lock eyes with him, he gives me an almost-smile and watches while I move off towards the computer.  

After about twenty minutes, he comes and looks over my shoulder with evident curiosity to see what I'm working on. Without saying anything, I hand him a sheaf of research materials I'd scanned earlier which have some bearing on the boards I'd been revising. Justin takes the papers and walks over to the sofa where he sits and reads the entire stack diligently.  

Then, several minutes later, he returns to where I'm sitting, picks up some blank sheets of paper, a graphite pencil and two of the demo boards the art department had prepared for me and takes them all back to the living room. Instead of sitting on the couch this time, though, he places the boards on the coffee table and sits on the floor. I watch him off and on out of the corner of my eye, curious as to what he's come up with. But I restrain myself, waiting till he's ready to show me whatever it is.

He studiously works at the boards and his sketch for over a half an hour - tracing over sections with a graphite pencil, rubbing at the paper occasionally with his index finger, erasing and then redrawing sections. Every once in a while the bare tip of his pink tongue will dart into view. Having already filled my quota of lesbionic thoughts for the day, I refuse to let myself think of this as cute. Nope - not cute at all.1.

When he's finished, I can sense his hesitation. He keeps looking in my direction surreptitiously. Once he's worked up the gumption to bring his idea to me, it's as if he feels a blindside attack will work best - he heads first towards the kitchen, then angles towards the door and finally comes up to me from behind my left shoulder.  

The closer he gets to me the more his confidence seems to ebb. His pace gets slower and he drags his feet more and more. When he finally reaches me, he thrusts his masterpiece at me and then promptly retreats back to the couch, not even waiting till I've looked at it before he assumes he's failed. The little spark of creativity I'd been admiring while he was drawing has vanished completely.

He hasn't failed though - the artwork I'm looking at is magnificent and his idea to incorporate the whole skaterboy love of body art into the campaign by using tatoos to display the business' logo and some of the principal products is brilliant.  I've already got some ideas in mind for the perfect models to use for the print ads - a couple of my buddies from the gym would be perfect. The idea is hot, edgy and, as far as I know, unique. I'm completely blown away by not only the concept but also the fabulous art work.  

Now, how do I go about proving this to my skittish guest?

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Justin's POV

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I don't know why I did it. I have no idea how I got up the courage to even attempt such an idiotic thing. One minute I was watching Brian working on something for a client, then Brian gives me all this demographic research, and the next minute I'm drawing. I'm sure it's just a pile of shit like all my other stuff. But, it felt good to be drawing again - almost fun. I haven't had much opportunity to draw for a long time and this just felt so good. But why the hell I thought to bother Brian with my doodling, I'll never know.

Brian obviously has professional artists that prepare these display boards for him. He doesn't need some rank amateur like me to redo his staff's work. If he had wanted my help he would have said something. Shit, now I'm fucking embarrassed. I wish I could run over there and grab that sketch back from him and erase it from his memory completely.

Once I'd picked up that pencil and made the first mark on the paper, though, I just couldn't stop.  I didn't want to stop. I can barely remember the last time I drew or painted or created anything. When I first ended up on the streets there hadn't been time. Then there hadn't been any resources. I finally came to realize my father had been right, that there wasn't any place in my life for art. He was always right, even when I fought him, I'd known he was right.  

So I guess when Brian showed me those drawings I just sort of lost it - I wanted to draw so much. Call it temporary insanity, I guess, or blame it on my staying here way longer than was good for me. But now that I've given Him that sketch to look at I feel like I want to simply crawl in a hole somewhere and die. I'm sure he's going to hate it. I've been told often enough that I shouldn't waste my time on art - that I just don't have what it takes. I should have known better.

Of course, he'll pretend like it's good just to be nice to me - that's the way he is. But obviously he'll only be lying. He's going to see how completely pathetic I am. Well the good news about that is I won't have to waste my time hanging out here for a whole other day.

All the energy I felt just a few minutes ago is gone now. I feel exhausted all of a sudden. Maybe Brian won't mind if I just go lie down in bed again for a while and rest. I start to get up. Unfortunately, Brian is blocking my way. Why won't he just leave me alone? Why is he smiling at me? Jesus, I'm so fucking tired of trying to make sense of everything here. It's just too much fucking work. I want to just go lie down so badly I'm almost ready to cry but He's still standing there in my way, damn it.

"What do you want from me, Brian," I manage to ask through my overwhelming fatigue.

"I don't want anything from you, Sunshine. I want to give you something," he says.  

The happiness and excitement in his voice force me to look up into his eyes. The sight of Brian's eager joy is like a current of cool water washing through the middle of me.2. I feel refreshed - the tiredness Is swept away with the tides. Brian is happy with me, I can tell and I want to revel in the feeling.  

Then he leans down towards me, tilting my chin up with one long finger so that our mouths are only centimeters apart. And, never letting go of my gaze, he touches his lips to mine, softly at first but with increasing firmness. His sweet breath, redolent of peppermint, envelops me.  Brian's moist breath runs down the nape of my neck, curling along my spine. A sense of peace runs through me along the cool currents. My body throbs with safety and I feel so joined to Brian in this moment that I can almost feel the pulse of his happiness along with my own.3.

"Your drawing is amazing, Justin. It's perfect for the campaign I'm working up for this account. If it's okay with you, I'd like to use your drawings and ideas in my presentation," Brian's words are as sweet as his kiss but don't make total sense to me.

"You want to use my work? You like it?" I ask, needing to be clear on this. "You're not just saying that?"

"No, I'm not just saying that. I love your work and I want to use it. May I?"

"Sure," is the total extent of my answer.

"Thank you. I know this is going to wow the client, completely," Brian beams at me, placing his hand at the small of my back to guide me back towards his desk. "Let me show you some of the other things I was thinking about and get your input."

Brian and I spend the next few hours going over his pitch. He listens to my ideas about everything. No one has ever listened to me or asked my opinion about something like this. He actually takes into account my ideas and suggestions.  

As we talk, I sketch what he describes and then we revise it together or scrap it or change it completely. In the end, when Brian starts to pack up our work, saying he'll have his staff finalize it all tomorrow, I feel like some small part of me that I thought had died is coming back to life.

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Brian's POV

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The sparkle that comes into his eyes as we work together makes me want to shout and jump for joy and grab him and kiss him all at the same time. Is this what will bring Justin back to life for good? Fuck, I hope so.

And, with perfect timing, it's at that very minute that I hear Emmett jangling my keys out on the landing. I smile over at Justin who smiles back at me wholeheartedly for the very first time. I see now exactly why Deb gave him that silly nickname - his full uninhibited smile is so bright it's practically a rival for any sunbeam. Sunshine lights up the entire room when he smiles like that. I instinctively reach for his hand and I'm thrilled when he enthusiastically squeezes mine back as we head towards the door to greet our happy little shopper.

"Well, you're not going to believe what I was able to get for you, darling. I hit ALL the sales. It was fabulous! I've got at least two weeks of lovely new duds for you, Sweetie. I can't wait to have you try them all on for me. You are going to look soooooo hot." Emmett is gushing about his conquests before he's even inside the loft.

"I know you said to go with a more restrained fashion sense, Brian, and I did, really, for the most part, but I did break down a little in the end and pick Justin up a couple of clubbing outfits that you are just going to drool over - I know I did, imagining that adorable little bubble butt in the outfit I picked out. Oh, I just can't wait. You have to bring him to Babylon tonight so everyone can see . . .” Emmett continues, amazingly without seeming to need to breathe in order to talk endlessly.  

He is unloading shopping bag after bag from the lift as he speaks, handing off his purchases to me, to Justin or just heaping them on the furniture when our hands were too full to take more. I’m amazed that he's somehow managed to hit so many stores in such a short time period. But of course, I'd already known Em's powers of shopping were virtually limitless - which was exactly why I'd thought of him for the job.

Once all the clothing bags are unloaded, he grabs one or two in particular, shoving them into Justin's hands and then herding the boy off towards the bedroom.

"Now, Sweetie, you just go put this on for me, so I know I got your sizes right. That way you don't have to try everything on for me right now. Go on, Babydoll. I just can't wait to see what you think, Brian." Oh Emmett - that man sure can gush, but you have to admire his full-on flame.

"While he's changing I'll hurry back down and bring up the groceries," Em advises. "If you help, Bri, I think we can manage it all in only one more trip."

"I'm surprised you had time to get the groceries too, considering how many stores it looks like you hit for the clothes, Honeycutt," I kid him as we venture down to the parking garage to get the rest of his booty.

"Of course I managed the groceries. I also managed that special little request of yours, Brian," Emmett says, winking at me conspiratorially. "Justin's gonna just love what I got. And, don't worry, Brian. I swear not to tell anyone what a big, sweet, softie you're turning into."

"Watch out how you use the word 'soft' around me, Honeycutt," I growl at him - all in fun, though, and I'm oddly not really bothered that he knows about my feelings towards Justin.  

We unload heaping bags full of food from the back of the Jeep. I'm not sure how many people he thought were going to be living at my loft, since it looks like he's bought enough food for at least twenty. I'm also not sure how he managed to get all this, plus the umpteen million shopping bags full of clothes, in the car at the same time. Emmett - the miracle worker of shopping.  

The last bag he pulls out of the car from the floor of the front passenger seat is a large, beautifully adorned gift bag with a large white silk bow. He hands it to me, winking again, and then gathers up several grocery bags in his large hands before heading to the lobby with his store of goodies. While we’re waiting for the lift he also hands me back my credit card and keys along with a pile of receipts. I hand him back a couple of large bills to pay him for his time, although I'm not sure why since he so obviously enjoys this too much for it to have been considered working.

"Thank you, Brian." Emmett says demurely, knowing me well enough that he knows I won't tolerate anything more effusive.

"Thank you, EmmyLou. It looks like I definitely hired the right queen for the job. No one but you could have bought so much in such a limited period of time. You are truly amazing!" I give him my standard tongue-in-cheek, back-handed compliment, which he graciously accepts for what it is.

Struggling slightly under the pounds of groceries, we make it back upstairs and Emmett immediately starts unpacking and putting away the groceries, while I pour drinks for everyone - knowing that I at least need one after that harrowing experience. Emmett accepts his rum and coke while deftly juggling several containers of yogurt, two wedges of cheese and what appears to be half the shopping aisle full of various condiments. Well, I think to myself, I did tell him to get everything.  

By this point I'm starting to wonder what happened to Justin, who's been up in the bedroom, supposedly changing into his new outfit, for much longer than it usually takes a teenager to dress. I finally can't take it anymore and have to go check on him. What I find is a half naked young man, sitting on the floor, with the shopping bags Emmett had forced on him arrayed around him in a semi-circle as if to provide a protective barrier. He seems dazed. He's made no attempt to try on any of the items lying half out of the bags.

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Justin's POV

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Once again Brian has gone overboard. I'm looking at these piles of new clothes and I know I just can't do this. Why does he always have to push it too far? I was actually feeling so happy about drawing and working together with him on his presentation. Why did he have to go and ruin everything like this?  

This isn't something you do for someone who's only going to be around for one more day. This is something you do to keep someone indefinitely. But I can't let him tie me to him like this. I can't - I won't let him in. Once you let people in, either they hurt you themselves or someone else will use your feelings for them to hurt you. Either way the only result is pain. I already have enough pain. I refuse to let him do this to me when it will only add to the pain.

I'm still just sitting there frozen when He comes into the room. I can't look at him. If I let myself look at him, my resolve is likely to break apart. I'm still trying to work my way back to numb - it's not working very well because I now have to get around that little bit of happy that's far too distracting. If I look at Brian I know I'll be lost again - I can't look at him or let myself think about him kissing me or that piece of happy or anything else that will break me.  

"You don't like the clothes?" Brian says quietly.

I refuse to answer him. I can't say anything that will distract me. I won't let this happen to me.

"What's wrong? If you don't like the clothes, I'll have Emmett exchange them," Brian sounds confused, but I'm not going to look at him.

"Justin?"

Go away. Please go away. Please. I just can't do this.

"I don't understand, Justin. What can't you do," he asks - shit, I didn't realize I was speaking aloud.  

Brian kneels down beside me. He's trying to see into my eyes as I try to keep my head turned away. He manages to get hold of my chin, holding it still and cupping it with the palm of his hand, his thumb stroking across my lower lip. He captures my gaze, finally, and the worry and concern in his eyes cause angry tears to burst from mine, melting whatever numbness I'd rebuilt and allowing the despair to take over.   

I hate how my anger always seems to come out in tears. I hate how weak it makes me look. I wish I could yell, scream, rave, even hit something, but I can't. All I can ever seem to manage is tears. It's not due to sadness though. It's rage that I just can't express.

"Shit. I did it again. It's too much, isn't it?" Brian understands.  

He gets up and begins to gather the bags and clothing together. He hands me a pair of simple cargo pants and a long-sleeved tee and takes all the rest away, tossing it all into the closet and sliding the door closed. Then he carefully pats my shoulder, letting his fingers trail across my cheek as he pulls away.

"Get dressed, Sunshine. I'll take care of the rest," Brian says as he walks out of the room, leaving me exhausted from the roller coaster ride of emotions he's taken me through today.

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Footnotes:

1.  Smolder, Chapter 4.

2.  Full credit for much of the beautiful imagery I’ve used here goes to Jim Grimsley, from his wonderful novel, Dream Boy. See, p. 12.  While I haven’t quoted his work directly, if you read the original, you’ll see where much of my imagery comes from.  All credit to the master!

3.  Id., p. 121.