Chapter 10 - R.I.P. Craig.

The funeral is on Thursday afternoon. That means I get Justin pretty much to myself for most of Saturday and Sunday. Jenn already took care of most of the funeral plans on Saturday morning, and there's not much else they can do over the weekend other than fend off well wishers, so Mother Taylor doesn't have any grounds for objecting to my borrowing Justin to 'babysit'.

We actually do take Molly and Gus to the park Sunday afternoon for a while, just to get 'The Mollusk' out from under Jennifer's feet for a couple hours. I bring Gus along more to maintain our 'cover' than anything, although I've always loved watching Justin and Gus interact. Molly is totally baby crazy by the end of the visit, too. It's a fun, stress-free outing for everybody. The only downside of it is that I have to be a good boy and keep my hands to myself the entire time, since we've got Molly.

Jennifer and Justin spend Monday morning at the attorney's office dealing with the legalities of Craig's Will and what's going to happen with the business. I convince Justin to come meet me for 'lunch' afterwards and he tells me that there weren't any big surprises: everything goes to Jennifer except for a certain amount to be deposited in trust funds for him and Molly. The business was already partly in Jennifer's name - after all, it was her family who gave Craig the money to start the business in the first place - so Jenn can just step right into Craig's shoes and run the company if she wants. Financially, between the business and Craig's life insurance, the family is set.

So then, why do I still feel so weird? Getting rid of Craig has been a good thing all round, so far. I mean, yeah, they're all sad about him dying and all, but nobody seems devastated. I hardly get the impression that the relationship between Jenn and Craig was all that passionate. And Justin and Molly liked their dad, but neither will be crippled with grief now that he's gone. Justin seems more upset about how hard this is on his mother than by his father dying. But, still . . .

After our lunch date - which comes complete with a lovely interlude of me plowing Justin's sweet, tight ass in the men's room at the Diner - he heads off to spend some time with Daphne, promising to bring her over to meet me after I get off work. I, of course, easily win Daph over. She's always been one of my staunchest supporters. I'm careful though not to slip up with any references to my past lives or things I know about her that I shouldn't. It all seems to work just fine, and by the time Justin and I drop her off at her house later, so that we boys can have a fun little sleepover of our own, she's clearly a Brian Kinney supporter.

It isn't until late that night that I finally see the first real signs that Justin is actually hurting. He's been all 'brave faced and strong' for his mother and sister every time I've seen him. And even when they weren't around, he's been maintaining the facade. But I know better than anyone how deeply Justin's feelings really run, so I should have been prepared. I wasn't ready for this, though.

I don't know exactly what it is that wakes me. I don't think he's making much noise. Maybe it's the lights on out in the living room. Maybe it's just his absence from the bed next to me. But something disturbs me out of a deep sleep and I immediately know that Justin isn't in bed.

I find him on the couch, huddling under a blanket, tears streaming down his face which is frozen in a grimace of pain. As soon as he sees me, he lets out an audible sob and tries to hide his face from me in the blanket. I maneuver myself onto the couch behind him and bundle him into my arms, but he still won’t show me his face. I can feel his whole body shaking as each sob wracks through him. I hate seeing Justin in pain, but for the moment, all I can do is hold on and let this run its course.

“Tell me, Justin,” I ask when the sobs have subsided to sighs and the tears are only a trickle.

“I was always such a disappointment to him. I never lived up to his expectations for me and now that he’s gone, I’ll never have the chance to prove to him that I can do it,” Justin says in a now almost calm voice.

“That’s bullshit, Justin. You can’t live your life always trying to satisfy what someone else wants from you,” I immediately respond angrily. “If your father was disappointed in you, that’s his loss. You are an amazing, talented, intelligent man and if he didn’t see that it’s because he wasn’t looking.”

“You don’t know anything, Brian. He was a good man, a good father. He gave all of us a good life and all he wanted was for me to live up to my potential. He was right that I always was taking the easy way out - messing around with my art rather than learning other more marketable skills or getting a job. I’ve always had it so easy and he worked so hard to support us and now he’s gone. I never got a chance to show him that I can be what he wanted me to be. I can.”

“Justin, listen to me. Are you listening?” I demand his attention.

“Yes, I’m listening,” he confirms with a lingering sniffle.

“You can only be what you are, not what someone else thinks you should be. Do you hear me. Don’t ever try to be something you’re not because someone else tells you that’s what’s ‘right’. And, if your father was trying to make you into something you’re not, then he really wasn’t such a good father - at least not in my opinion.”

“Fuck you, Brian. You didn’t know him.”

I want to tell him that, yes, I did know Craig and that he was an ass who would have only made Justin’s life miserable if I hadn’t done something about it first. But, I can’t say that, now, can I? I can only sit back and watch as Justin idolizes a man that I knew didn’t deserve it. But, since Justin never got a chance to come out to his father, Craig never had an opportunity to show that side of himself. So, what, Justin is going to forever mourn this great man he thinks his father was? Great. There’s nothing I can really do about that now though, is there.

“I just wish I’d tried a little harder while he was still alive, you know?” Justin continues. “I guess I never thought that I’d run out of time, like this. I figured that I’d have plenty of time to work on my art and find myself and everything and that I didn’t need to settle down and apply myself, like dad wanted. If I’d only known how little time I had. . .”

“Shit, Justin. You couldn’t have known that. How could you ever predict something like this - that something as innocuous as an allergic reaction would cause his death? Nobody ever thinks about shit like that,” I try to reassure him, still holding him in my arms to comfort him the best way I know how.

And, that’s how I know I’ve screwed up. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel his body suddenly tense up and I hear him taking in a sharp breath. He’s very still then for several minutes before he turns to look up at me with definite confusion and a hint of suspicion in his beautiful sparkling blue eyes.

“I never told you it was an allergic reaction, Brian. How did you know that?”

"Didn't you?" I say, trying not to look like I'm obviously lying.

"No, I didn't. Mom and I only found out this morning," justin says in a quiet, questioning voice. "Everybody just thought it was a heart attack. But mom talked to the coroner this morning and he told her that it was actually anaphylactic shock caused by an allergic reaction. But I didn't tell you that. How did you know?"

"I must have heard it from somewhere, Sunshine," I offer, lamely. "I'm sure you must have said something about it earlier."

Justin doesn't say anything further about the subject, but I can tell he's still uneasy. He doesn't relax back against my chest the way he was before. Instead he's moved a little away and is sitting facing me with his knees drawn up to his chest forming a sort of shield. His eyes dart to my face then back down to his hands, which are restlessly playing with the blanket.

"You are right, though," I say after scrambling for a moment to find a way to distract him from my gaffe, "we never know how much time we'll have. So, let's not waste what we do have, Sunshine. If for some reason, all this isn’t here when I wake up tomorrow, then I don’t want to have missed my opportunity to show you how much you mean to me. Come on back to bed.”

I take his hand and pull him towards me off the couch. He only resists for a split second and then I feel him relax. He lets me tow him towards the bedroom without further protest. I guide him to the bed and let him lay down, gently pressing at his hip until he rolls to his stomach. Then, I fish around in the side table drawer and locate the small bottle of massage oil that I hoped would still be there - not that I’d ever thought to waste good fucking time with something as inane as a massage, but there had been that one masseuse I’d fucked who had offered that one time. . . .

I can feel the tension still in the muscles of Justin’s back. I quickly fill my palm with the sweet almond scented oil and rub my hands together to warm it slightly. Then, I start to knead at the knots of muscles under my hands. I know he usually carries his tension mostly in the shoulders, so I start there, lightly massaging until I find a tender spot and then working it with harder, deeper pressure until I feel the muscles relax. It takes me a long time - I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this tense before. But, when I’ve finished with his shoulders and back, he’s pretty much turned to jelly in my hands and from there, I know I can do whatever I want with my pliant little boy.  

Using a towel I find nearby, conveniently left there after we showered earlier, I wipe off most of the oil before I move on to step two of my plan. Then, I scoot down Justin’s pliant and tranquil body until I’m lying between his legs with my face at a good level to taste his luscious ass, something I’ve been wanting to do all night.  I begin by lightly trailing my tongue down from his lower back, down his crack and just tickling over his tight little pucker. Even as boneless as he is after the massage, that elicits a bit of a jolt out of him as well as a happy little moan.

I love rimming, and even more, I love rimming Justin. He tastes so good - his skin actually has a sweetness to it that I’ve never known in another man before. And I love hearing the delicious, needy, erotic noises he makes when I’m rimming him. He’s always responsive, but when I’m sucking at his hot little hole, he becomes so passionate and carnal that he spurs me on even more. I keep licking and sucking at the tender rim of flesh until Justin is writhing beneath me and only my body weight on his is keeping him in place. When I finally let my tongue venture inside, his whole body jumps involuntarily and I have to hold his hips in place with my hands to keep him still. His reaction makes me want to devour him like this forever.

But, Justin’s escalating moans and his struggling body soon make it clear that he wants more. I do too, but I also want to make this time last. We’ve already fucked a half dozen times today, including our lunch date earlier, so my need isn’t as frantic and immediate as it usually is when I’m with Justin. What I want now is something more intimate, more lasting. I want to make love to him, not just fuck him this time. And, yes, I realize that I thought that completely out of character thought and I don’t care a bit.

I quickly find a condom and some lube. After all we’ve done tonight, Justin isn’t in need of much more prepping, so I simply slide the condom on my dick, slather on some lube and slide right into his oh-so-welcoming ass. It feels so right - so tight and hot - that I could almost cum just from that initial caress as I push into him the first time. I have to stop for a moment, not only to let him adjust, but to get a hold of my own surging lust. I know then that if I really do want this to last, regardless of how many previous goes we’ve already had tonight, I need to make a few changes.  

First, I roll over to my side, pulling Justin with me so we never lose contact. In this position, I don’t feel the same need to drive into him. It feels more open and relaxed than when I’m fucking him into the mattress. It also feels more intimate, because Justin for once isn’t trapped under me by my body. We have to move together to get to our goal when we’re in this position. It’s freer, but more demanding somehow as well. And, it’s definitely more intimate, which is why I’ve never fucked any other guy in this position except Justin.

I’m bracing my body up on my elbow with my right arm and using my left to hold Justin to me. He’s half turned so that we can still kiss as I thrust into him from behind, steadily and slowly moving in and out as he arches his body towards me with each motion. His hand is gripping my thigh to guide me and pull me in deeper. Everything feels different from this angle and I feel pressures and pleasures in places I’ve rarely felt before. The pace is agonizingly slow but at the same time more erotic than anything you could imagine.

We move together in this manner for ages. The steady stimulation becomes almost painful but in a way that I never want it to end. Then Justin moves - it’s just a little sideways motion of his hips, nothing big or out of the ordinary - but that one novel little motion is all it takes to throw me over the cliff of sensation and cause my orgasm to rip through me. My nerve endings all explode without any prior warning and I can’t control the spasms that rip through my body as I cum again and again, somehow pulling Justin with me into his own climax.

“I love you, Justin,” I tell him as soon as I regain my breath. “You’re all I ever want. I want you to know that, in case something happens to me or I never make it back here again. I DO love you. Everything I’m doing, it’s for you. Please believe me.”

“I do, Brian. And, I love you too,” he whispers back, the stress of the past few days as well as the massage, washing over him at the same time so that his words fade as he falls asleep in my arms before I can even pull out or clean him off.

I’ve told Ryder I’m taking the day of the funeral off. I know it will be a difficult day for Justin. Even though I know he won’t want to let his vulnerability show, he’ll need all the support he can get to make it through this day.

We wake up early and head over to the Diner for breakfast, first. Debbie finally gets to meet Justin - well, in this timeline at least. She instantly dubs him ‘Sunshine’ at his very first full-wattage smile in her direction.  

“That’s strange,” Justin comments immediately. “That’s what Brian has been calling me, too. Did you two compare notes or something?”

“He didn’t discuss it with me, Sweetie. But then again,” Deb says, looking at me quizzically for a brief instant and then smiling her big mother hen smile, “Brian’s no dummy. He knows a good thing when he sees it. He doesn’t always listen to his instincts, but he should.”

“Thanks, I think, Deb,” I tell her and she slaps the back of my head affectionately as she moves away to place our breakfast order.

We hardly get a chance to start on our food, though, before Michael and Emmett show up and join us in the booth without being asked.

“Good Morning, Brian and Brian’s beautiful new friend,” drawls Emmett before he’s even completely seated.

“What’s HE doing here?” adds Michael, rudely.

“Good morning, Honeycutt. This is Justin. Justin, Emmett. Oh, and keep your hands off, Honeycutt - he’s taken,” I say acknowledging the tall southerner and ignoring my rude best friend.

“Don’t call me Honeycutt,” Emmett instantly barks.

“Brian. You didn’t answer me - why is this trick here? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all weekend. Where have you been?” Michael interrupts before Emmett can add anymore pleasantries.

“Good morning to you, too, Michael,” I finally respond, realizing that Michael will not go away simply because I ignore him. “And, to answer your rather obnoxious questions: Justin is here because I asked him out to breakfast, he is NOT a trick, and you haven’t been able to reach me all weekend because I didn’t want to take your calls. There. Happy now?”

“Briannn,” is Michael’s already anticipated reply.

“You look even more dressed up than usual, Brian,” Emmett goes for the change of topic, I suspect in an attempt to help me stop Michael’s whining. “Are you off to some ultra-elegant locale this morning?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m going to a funeral today,” I reply, wishing that Emmett hadn’t picked that particular change of topic.

“Oh, my! Who died? It wasn’t Mark Rossi, was it? I knew he was sick but I hadn’t heard he died. Oh my, God!” Emmett is off and mourning before I can stop him.

“Emmett, stop. It’s not Mark Rossi. And, why the fuck would you think I would bother to go to his funeral even if it was?” I say when I finally get a word in edgewise between his wailing. “It’s for Justin’s father.”

“Oh, Sweetie. I’m so sorry,” Emmett turns his crooning in Justin’s direction at this news, and I get to take a break from the conversation for a while as Emmett engages Justin in a discussion of everything wonderful Craig ever did.

Instead of participating in the Craig Taylor lovefest, I sit back and trade glares with Michael, who’s still fuming over my last remarks. I sense that mixed in with the anger, there’s also some questioning in those glares. I know he hasn’t forgotten my blathering from the other night’s drunken ravings. I’m worried that he’s going to confront me about Justin and make a complete ass of himself. I’m not completely sure what I said to him, either, which makes me doubly worried. Not only is Michael potentially going to cause problems between Justin and me simply because he doesn’t like the idea of me actually settling down with one man, but what if I also told him something about Craig? I wish I remembered better exactly what I said.

That’s when Debbie comes back over to the table, ostensibly to get Michael and Emmett’s orders, but more likely just to join the conversation and nose into whatever’s going on over here.  

“Good morning, boys. You guys ready to order?” she asks and promptly takes down the two additional breakfast orders. “How you holding up, Sunshine? If you’re still hungry, I can get you a sweet roll or something for dessert, Honey.”

“‘Sunshine’?” Michael immediately catches the pet name his mother’s given to Justin and I know I’m in trouble since I DO remember telling Michael about how ‘Sunshine’ didn’t exist yet since he hadn’t met Debbie.

“Actually, we have to go, Deb,” I say before Michael can voice any disturbing questions that I don’t want to answer, especially not in front of Justin. “Come on, Justin.”

I manage to bustle my blond away from the scene of potential disaster before Michael can say anything more. I know I’ll have to deal with Michael later, but I’m just glad that I was able to avoid the confrontation for the moment. Fucking Michael. Why the fuck did I always have to get drunk and babble to Michael about everything? I just hope that this time it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

From the Diner, we head back to the burbs and I deposit Justin at Daphne’s house, where he was supposed to have spent the night. He’s pensive and quiet. I wish I didn’t have to leave him even for the short hour between now and the time when the funeral is scheduled.  But, I won’t out him to his mother if at all possible, so I have to play along with this farce for at least a little longer. All I can do is kiss him long and hard and hope that will tide him over until after the funeral when we can be together again.

After I drop Justin off and drive around aimlessly for about forty minutes, just killing time, I park my car in the lot at the Presbyterian church where the funeral service is being held and wait until I see the black stretch limo that’s bringing Justin and his family arrive. I follow the Taylors inside and quietly wait until the family has been greeted by the minister, the funeral director and sundry other pseudo-officials.

When they've finally been seated, I respectfully make my way to the front pew. I'm not really sure what I planned to do - I can't exactly join the family but I want to be there for them at the same time. Justin looks so ridiculously young in that off the rack suit he's wearing. It's so fucking endearing that I'm staring against the urge to take him in my arms and drag him out of here.

Luckily, before I can act on any of my wild ideas, Jennifer notices me and stands to greet me.

"Mr. Kinney - sorry, Brian - it's so kind of you to come today," Jennifer says as she shakes my hand, collected and prim as always, even at her husband's funeral.

"It's the least I could do. And, please, if there's anything you need, I'd be very annoyed if you didn't come to me first for help," I willingly offer.

"Thank you. But, you've already done enough. Even keeping Justin busy and distracted with all your babysitting lately has helped him more than you'd know. I'm sure if it weren't for you, he'd have just been moping around with me these last few days. Is your wife here with you today? I'd love to meet her and thank her as well," Jennifer says, craning her neck around to see if she can spot my mythical wife.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, Jennifer," I respond right away - I'm not going to out Justin, but I'm also not for one minute going to pretend to be anything I'm not. "I'm not married. I'm gay. My son's mother is an old college friend of mine who wanted a child, so we came to an arrangement. She and her partner, Melanie, are raising Gus. I'm still planning on being a part of his life, of course, but I'm not one of his primary parents."

"Oh, I'm, um . . . I didn't realize. . . " Jennifer stutters, clearly at a loss for any more articulate response.

"It's quite all right. You wouldn't have known," I try to put her back at ease, knowing that this isn't really the place to have this conversation. "Well, I'll take my seat. I just wanted you to know that you can ask me if you need anything."

"Brian, wait," I hear Justin say as soon as I turn my back and start to move away.

Justin rises and starts to follow me, grabbing my hand before I can move too far away. I look down at him and see that he's smiling sadly at me. There's something else there in his gaze, though, beyond the sadness. There's respect and what I would call pride.

"Please, sit with us," he asks, gently tugging at my arm to pull me into the pew with them.

I glance briefly at Jennifer who's looking at her son critically but not saying anything. But, since she also isn't saying anything against the idea, I nod at Justin and let him take me with him to a seat at the end of the pew beyond where Molly is sitting. I settle into my seat next to him, ridiculously happy to have been included.

He keeps my hand in a firm grip the rest of the service.

Craig was being cremated so there was no graveside service. Instead, after the religious service Jennifer had opted for a 'reception' period at the church, rather than having some kind of gathering back at the house. Again, the WASPish nature of these services, so proper and devoid of overt emotionalism, seems so alien to a recovering Catholic like myself - you mean to say you don't actually HAVE to invite your drunken relatives back to your house to eat and get drunker? I love this.

The funeral director sets the family up in seats near the doorway to the small hall where the reception is held before ushering the rest of the mourners in. I again start to move away, not wanting to intrude. This time, instead of trying to keep me with him, Justin kisses his mother, whispers something to her and then follows after me.

"I don't want to have to shake all those hands and listen to the hypocrites all saying how sorry they are," Justin tells me in a hushed voice as soon as we're out of his mother's range of hearing. "Please don't leave me there."

"Sure thing, Sunshine. You can come hide in the corner with me," I tease as I lead him away from the growing crowd surrounding his mother and sister.

We gravitate towards the large coffee urn set up on a table against the back wall. I fill two styrofoam cups with a brownish tepid liquid that's pretending to be coffee and hand one to Justin. After a brief sip, I quickly add about half the bowl of suger to the cup, hoping that might make the drink tolerable. I'm just about to offer the sugar to Justin as well, when I hear a vaguely familiar voice behind me.

"Taylor. Sorry about your dad, man," the laconic voice intones.

"Yeah. Thanks, Chris. It was good of you to come," I hear Justin's response as I turn around, only slightly curious about Justin's acquaintance until I see exactly who is standing there talking to my boy.

It's Chris Fucking Hobbs!