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freakykatTitle: Miles From Where You Are
Genre: Brian/Justin
Series: Part Three of Four (plus Epilogue)
Timeline: post 513
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the "World's Apart challenge" on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
neverenough_bj. Lyrics from "You Should Be Happy" by Snow Patrol.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wouldbedorothy. Thanks!
Part One
Part Two
Miles from where you are
Love me with your spirit, promise we'll never part. We are not the same as others. We are forever lovers. -- The Crow
There is only one lifetime. It is up to the individual to do with it as they want.
Justin leaned his head back against the headboard, cursing his English teacher to hell for eternity. He’d never believed those random lessons in his teenage years would ever affect his life. Or in this case, have the scary symmetry they had with his own situation. He would have found it all amusing except that it was his life. It was his world that seemed on the verge of destruction.
It was barely daybreak and his restlessness was threatening to consume him. There had been no sleep. Fitful attempts at it were interrupted by the sudden realization that the only barrier between him and another broken heart was one flimsy wall of concrete.
He swore he could hear every movement that Brian made, even when he knew logically that wasn’t possible. Not unless he’d suddenly become Superman. Or Rage. That earned a smile. Rage was easy to understand. He’d always been. Like Brian.
But the man in the other room, the one that had driven hours to get to him, wasn’t Rage. He wasn’t even the Brian he knew. He was a completely new creature. Some hybrid of the Brian he had loved and… someone new. Someone else.
It was freaking him out.
Even after Michael’s explanation -- if blurting out that Brian had witnessed another bashing, and then telling Justin to ask Brian for the rest of the details before hanging up could be considered that -- the fact that he was here, within mere feet, where Justin could touch, breathe, taste him… was enough to drive him insane.
Brian seemed determined to do whatever it was he thought he had to. To take Justin with him. He snorted at that idea. Where the hell was he going to take him? Back to the Pitts? No. Brian said he wasn’t going back there.
Where the fuck was he going? That was the million dollar question. Justin willed his heart to not care. He wanted nothing to do with it. It didn’t matter to him. Whatever Brian had come for wasn’t important to him.
He rolled his eyes and laughed mirthlessly.
What fucking utter bullshit that was.
Brian knew exactly what he was doing when he came to New York. He knew that no matter the years, showing up at Justin’s doorstep with declarations and promises would throw Justin completely for a loop. Would make him remember and want and need. It would give him the one thing he’d lived without for so long: Hope.
Justin slid down, rolling sideways and clutching his pillow to his face, and let out a muffled stream of curses. It wasn’t fucking fair.
Son of a bitch.
You could be happy
I hope you are
You made me happier than I'd been by far
After another hour of tossing in his bed, Justin threw back the covers and rose to meet the day… and goddamn Brian. He took his time in the shower and getting dressed, reassured that he wouldn’t be surprised by Brian bursting in the door. He’d made sure, twice, that it was securely locked. The world could call Justin many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. If Brian got anywhere near him -- naked, half-naked, or even with just his shoes off -- there’d be no way to resist him.
And he had to.
Even if it killed him.
Taking a deep breath before opening the door, Justin hesitated only a fraction of a second. Then, deciding that would give Brian the advantage, he walked steadily into the large, open kitchen. His eyes fell to Brian, sitting at the round kitchen table, hunched over his laptop with his cell in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
“I don’t give a fuck what he thinks, Theodore. Those boards are for shit.” He leaned back as he spoke and the muscle shirt stretched over his chest. Justin’s mouth suddenly went dry.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He’d forgotten how good Brian looked first thing in the morning, when he was just Brian. No Armani suit. No perfect hair. No businessman mask.
Just mussed, slightly cranky, beautiful Brian.
Oh, fuck. There was no way he would survive three days of this.
“I want new boards by noon today. Yes, I said noon, Ted. That’s plenty of time. Email them as soon as they’re ready.” Brian noticed Justin then, and his eyes lit up, despite the angry tone. He flashed Justin a rare, toothy grin…the kind that was only reserved for him.
Justin was going to fucking cry.
Brian motioned to the kitchen with his coffee cup, and while he finished his call, Justin went to investigate, finding a bag of pastries from his favorite bakery. He wasn’t going to bother asking how exactly Brian had managed to let himself in and out of the house without a key. He heard the soft shuffle of Brian’s feet as he came to stand at the breakfast bar to watch him.
“Good morning, Sunshine.”
“Hmph.”
Brian laughed quietly, sending a shiver up Justin’s spine that he chose to ignore. “I forget that you’re not exactly the most talkative this early in the day.”
“Who the fuck is?”
Justin sensed Brian’s grin and pushed away the one threatening to form on his own lips. They’d had this routine down to an art those first years when everything had seemed possible.
“Well, you might not be the most cheerful, but your ass can still make any suit look like fucking Armani.”
Without looking up, Justin asked, “You trying to ply me with charm and baked goods, Kinney?”
Brian moved so quickly, Justin hadn’t even been aware he’d stepped behind him. He was trapped between Brian and the counter. There was that awareness that ran through his blood, breath, skin… everything. Brian’s heat seeping through the material of his suit, his body’s ingrained instinct to lean back into it, and Justin inhaled. That scent that was distinctly Brian… seeping into his skin, overtaking senses and reason.
“I could ply you with something a little more --”
Fingers against skin, and Justin trembled somewhere he thought had long stopped feeling anything. It was instant. The attraction, the loss of breath, the arousal. Everything he felt compounded into one overwhelming sensation. Brian’s cheeks skimming his gently, breath touching him, and Justin forced his knees not to buckle. When soft lips grazed his chin, he bit back a whimper…
He knew he would lose everything that he’d fought for.
So he opened his mouth to tell Brian to stop, but other words rushed out on their own.
“Are you ever planning on telling me about the bashing?”
It was as if he had doused Brian with cold water. The abrupt change in his breathing, the hand that stilled just beneath the hem of his shirt where it had begun to explore further. They stood front to back, the only sound their breathing, and eventually Brian expelled a loud sigh, followed by, “Fucking Mikey.”
Justin felt him pull back, never looking up but sensing Brian come to stand in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
“Because it’s not important.”
Justin glared at him now.
“It’s not. Whatever you’re thinking… I -- fuck. Why the hell can’t you just leave it alone, Sunshine?”
Justin tensed. Straightening his shoulders and backing away from the counter, he deposited his empty cup and plate into the sink and moved past Brian to the living area. He knew Brian was following him. “Maybe because I’m not some seventeen year old twink who’s looking for something that isn’t there, and you’re not some twenty-nine year old emotionally stunted club boy with a Peter Pan syndrome,” he threw over his shoulder. Shoving his arms into his coat with more force than necessary, he added, “We’re grown-ups now, Brian. This shit -- dysfunctional and twisted -- it can’t work. I don’t want it.”
Brian had opened his mouth to speak, but Justin shook his head, walking to and opening his door before turning.
“I don’t want you here when I get back.”
“I have three days.”
“Fuck your three days.”
He slammed the door and vaulted down the stairs, the cold air hitting him the minute he stepped out of his building. He shivered but continued at the same hurried pace, just this side of running until he reached the station. There he paused and covered his face with frozen hands.
“Shit.”
######
“Um, Bossman?”
Justin gritted his teeth and glared at one of his oldest employees. “How many fucking times have I told you not to call me that, Steve?”
He found his glare returned and a file dumped on his desk as Steve left his office.
Less than a minute later, David opened the door and leaned against the frame. “What the fuck got up your ass, today?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
“I beg to differ there. Whatever is making you this pissed off, it’s not our fault, so do you think you could hold back on abusing the staff?” David entered the room, closing the door before stopping in the middle of the room, arms crossed. “Is this about Matt?”
Justin snorted, rifling through the pile of papers and files for the newest delivery reports.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a no. I didn’t think it was, anyway. I never saw Matt get this reaction from you.”
“I’m having a reaction?”
“Ah, yeah. You’re being a raving asshole, Justin.”
“Fuck off, David.”
“You first.”
Justin was going to fire the little shit today. Swear to God he was. He looked up, his eyes narrowed, to meet David’s hostile stare. “Don’t push me.”
“Well, then don’t treat me and the rest of the staff like we’re your personal punching bags, and I won’t call you on your crap. It’s pretty simple.”
Justin opened his mouth, then thinking better of it, he nodded. The fucker was right. “Just tell everyone to leave me alone.” David continued to stare at him. “I’ll apologize to them later, okay?” That received a nod, and the room was empty a second later.
Justin let his head fall on his desk.
Fucking Brian.
######
It had taken Justin a better part of the morning to shove all thoughts of Brian out of his mind, and by the time he’d managed to concentrate enough, he was behind schedule. He’d gone out of his office for a few brief minutes to apologize to Steve, who had just shaken his head and waved him away. Steve was like that. He didn’t hold a grudge. It was probably why he and David worked so well. ‘Cause David… he was a bitch when he was pissed off.
Which he had been all morning.
But as soon as he’d delivered that apology (and a few random others), Justin had stowed away in his office.
He was not fit for human consumption.
Unfortunately, every half hour or so, David entered with some new paper to be looked at, order to be approved, or messages to deliver. All done in a very angry tone. It was Justin’s punishment.
The door flew open, right on time, and Justin glanced up with as much patience as he could muster. “Yes?”
David raised an eyebrow. “You’re buying the staff lunch today,” he told Justin, shoving a receipt at him that needed to be signed, waiting. Justin bit back a sigh, another common event of the day, and did as he was told. He shoved it back at David and waited for him to leave.
When he didn’t, he looked up, a little annoyed now. “What, David?”
“I was just wondering if the gorgeous man standing in our showroom has anything to do with your foul mood this morning.”
Justin closed his eyes. Shit.
“God damn it.”
He pushed out of his chair and stepped around an interested-looking David to the door. He glanced out, recognizing the tilt of the head that was, at that very moment, looking at one of Justin’s newest pieces. “Shit. Fuck. Goddamnit.”
“You said that one already.”
He ignored the amusement in David’s voice and took a deep breath, fortifying his wall… setting another brick before heading out to take care of Brian. He stood quietly behind him, watching his face as Brian took in the large canvas. He knew he shouldn’t, but he needed to know. He always needed to know.
“What do you think?”
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
“Good.” Brian turned to him. “‘Cause it’s -- definitely not your best. But, what the fuck do I know about art, right?”
“Quite a bit, I think.” David’s voice drifted over to them. He pointed at the painting. “I hate that damn thing.”
Brian smiled over at David. “Brian Kinney. Justin’s… fill in the blank.”
David smothered a laugh at the look Justin sent Brian and waved. “David Anderson. Justin’s assistant and pain in the ass.”
“Ah… I used to be that, too, once.”
“Brian. Please.”
David smirked. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Brian.” He grinned at Justin’s shocked expression. “You talk like you wouldn’t believe when you’re drunk, J.” He nodded at them before turning away.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“He seems useful.” Brian watched David walk away.
“He’s married. The kind that doesn’t fuck around, so forget about it.”
Brian turned back, anger crossing his face. “Well, good for him.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else but didn’t, returning his gaze to the painting. “Is this what Daphne was talking about? Flat, uninspired…”
“This isn’t your place, Brian.”
“You’re here. It’s my place.”
Justin closed his eyes. He was going to kill him. He was. “Stop saying shit like that. It’s not you.”
“How the fuck would you know if it was?” Brian glanced over when Justin said nothing back. “There are things you won’t let me tell you.”
“Because I don’t care, Brian. I don’t need to hear them. I don’t want to.”
Brian shrugged. “Fine. So… show me what’s kept you in New York all these years.”
Somehow everything I own smells of you
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true
Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think just do
His eyes strayed to the covered painting, silently waiting to be finished, and his hands ached to touch it. To pour the frustration of the day into the thickness of colors. Wanted to sweep his hand across nothing and fill it with life… To command it to his liking.
One down. Two to go.
The hardest day he’d had in a long time was coming to a close, and Justin couldn’t have been more grateful to see it end.
Brian hadn’t made it easy. He’d stayed at the gallery until Justin broke down and agreed to dinner. Apparently, for a man who never made it down to New York, Brian had a favorite restaurant for every type of food. Justin had chosen Italian because, petty as he was feeling, he knew the extra “carbs” would annoy Brian.
He’d received an amused smirk in return and Brian’s suggestion of heading to Becco.
Justin would go but he wouldn’t like it.
Dinner had proven to be a lesson in self-control. Brian managed to get him to talk, despite what Justin had promised himself, and before he realized it, they were trading stories about clients, tricks, and problems. It was like it once was… when their lives had intertwined so closely.
Justin knew that disentangling from that -- from the life they’d shared -- was the hardest thing he’d ever had to experience. He wasn’t willing to go back.
But, when Brian’s eyes lit up at the mention of Gus or re-telling Emmett’s latest debacle, he felt like that seventeen year old he’d sworn he no longer was. His insides would tremble with the flip-flop he always got in the pit of his stomach when around Brian. He could feel the heat rising in his body, the desire mingle with something else -- doubt and fear -- and his mind screamed to get up and run away.
Sitting in a restaurant in the middle of Manhattan, he’d looked across the table and seen Brian. Noticed the slight crinkles when he smiled at him. How the hair at his temples was grayed slightly. The ease in his stance, on his face -- a peace he hadn’t realized was there.
And he fell. Hard and fast. Like he did that night so many years ago.
The ride back to the apartment had been hell. Brian next to him the whole time. His shoulder pressed against Justin’s, the heat of skin seeping through and scalding him. Justin had gritted his teeth so hard, he was surprised he hadn’t chipped a tooth. When Brian’s hand fell on his thigh, he’d jumped out of his skin, scooting over a few inches for distance.
For a moment, he’d met Brian’s eyes -- sparkling with something Justin did not want to see -- then looked away quickly. They’d fallen into a strained silence that had lasted all the way home.
And now they were alone and aware of each other, with words that needed to be said, no matter how Justin felt about it.
His eyes closed at the oddly familiar sounds of Brian. They weren’t noises that should have been distinguishable from ones he’d heard before, yet they were unique. They had an echo, a promise that Justin refused to acknowledge. They were Brian noises. Sounds generated from his energy… his force and power.
So, they were wholly different from anything else he’d heard in his home.
He’d refused to open his eyes to watch Brian walk across the expanse from the kitchen (where he’d been fiddling with something) to where he sat in the sitting room, surrounded by files and papers Justin assumed were for Kinnetic. No matter how much he wanted that image ingrained in his memory. To last him after this was over.
There was a shifting, and he ventured a look at Brian, gaze falling on the back of his head.
So familiar… So different.
“Come sit by me.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a road to disaster. Justin knew that.
“You never answered my question from this morning.”
“Because you already know it.”
Brian still wasn’t looking at him and it was frustrating. If he was going to lie (even though he never would), he could at least look at him when he did.
“Liar.”
“Am I?”
Justin sighed, pulling himself up from the futon (the first piece of furniture he had ever bought and now kept for sentimental reasons), and walked, his bare feet making no noise. He sat down on his coffee table, across from Brian, and stared at him until his gaze was met. “Tell me what happened.”
Brian’s eyes softened slightly. Setting aside the papers he’d been looking at, Brian leaned forward as he spoke. “It’s not why I’m here, Justin.” When he started to argue, one of Brian’s hands covered Justin’s mouth, the other pulling on Justin’s arm to bring him closer. “Stop fucking fighting this.”
He stiffened when Brian’s lips brushed his, once, twice, and then they were pressed against his mouth. The pressure deepened and Justin clenched and unclenched hands that wanted to touch everything that was Brian. He felt the distinct grip of Brian’s hand in his hair. Brian’s mouth working his unyielding one, nips soothed by kisses, the quick slip of warm tongue that left the aftertaste of scotch on his.
Justin knew there was no fighting it. No matter how he tried. Because in the end, Brian’s touch broke through those steely walls he hid behind. His hands took a hold of Brian’s face, and he pulled back. Eyes meeting, clashing of hunger and need… his mouth fell on Brian’s and he caught the moan of satisfaction with the kiss.
It was a crash of taste and heat and lips and tongues… hands at his back, fingers clutching hair, skin brushing… teeth mashing… breaths colliding. Like it always was. Like it had never been. He was in Brian’s lap, groaning at the contact… years of need fighting with self-preservation. He lost to the sensations and happiness that bubbled inside. Hands fumbled with buttons and clothes, aching for contact with skin. He pushed into the hardness and heat that rubbed against him… pants escaping between kisses… to his face, his mouth… Brian’s lips skimming over his neck, down to his collarbone, and Justin shivered involuntarily.
Legs wrapped around Brian’s waist, he grasped hair and pulled Brian’s head away roughly. Meeting eyes filled with unrestrained desire, his lips skimmed Brian’s, biting and licking. His whispered words falling into Brian’s open mouth.
“Fuck me. Now.”
Part Four
######
If all goes as planned, I will have this story finished and posted by the weekend. :) Just a heads up.
Genre: Brian/Justin
Series: Part Three of Four (plus Epilogue)
Timeline: post 513
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the "World's Apart challenge" on
neverenough_bj. Lyrics from "You Should Be Happy" by Snow Patrol.Beta:
wouldbedorothy. Thanks! Part One
Part Two
Miles from where you are
Love me with your spirit, promise we'll never part. We are not the same as others. We are forever lovers. -- The Crow
There is only one lifetime. It is up to the individual to do with it as they want.
Justin leaned his head back against the headboard, cursing his English teacher to hell for eternity. He’d never believed those random lessons in his teenage years would ever affect his life. Or in this case, have the scary symmetry they had with his own situation. He would have found it all amusing except that it was his life. It was his world that seemed on the verge of destruction.
It was barely daybreak and his restlessness was threatening to consume him. There had been no sleep. Fitful attempts at it were interrupted by the sudden realization that the only barrier between him and another broken heart was one flimsy wall of concrete.
He swore he could hear every movement that Brian made, even when he knew logically that wasn’t possible. Not unless he’d suddenly become Superman. Or Rage. That earned a smile. Rage was easy to understand. He’d always been. Like Brian.
But the man in the other room, the one that had driven hours to get to him, wasn’t Rage. He wasn’t even the Brian he knew. He was a completely new creature. Some hybrid of the Brian he had loved and… someone new. Someone else.
It was freaking him out.
Even after Michael’s explanation -- if blurting out that Brian had witnessed another bashing, and then telling Justin to ask Brian for the rest of the details before hanging up could be considered that -- the fact that he was here, within mere feet, where Justin could touch, breathe, taste him… was enough to drive him insane.
Brian seemed determined to do whatever it was he thought he had to. To take Justin with him. He snorted at that idea. Where the hell was he going to take him? Back to the Pitts? No. Brian said he wasn’t going back there.
Where the fuck was he going? That was the million dollar question. Justin willed his heart to not care. He wanted nothing to do with it. It didn’t matter to him. Whatever Brian had come for wasn’t important to him.
He rolled his eyes and laughed mirthlessly.
What fucking utter bullshit that was.
Brian knew exactly what he was doing when he came to New York. He knew that no matter the years, showing up at Justin’s doorstep with declarations and promises would throw Justin completely for a loop. Would make him remember and want and need. It would give him the one thing he’d lived without for so long: Hope.
Justin slid down, rolling sideways and clutching his pillow to his face, and let out a muffled stream of curses. It wasn’t fucking fair.
Son of a bitch.
You could be happy
I hope you are
You made me happier than I'd been by far
After another hour of tossing in his bed, Justin threw back the covers and rose to meet the day… and goddamn Brian. He took his time in the shower and getting dressed, reassured that he wouldn’t be surprised by Brian bursting in the door. He’d made sure, twice, that it was securely locked. The world could call Justin many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. If Brian got anywhere near him -- naked, half-naked, or even with just his shoes off -- there’d be no way to resist him.
And he had to.
Even if it killed him.
Taking a deep breath before opening the door, Justin hesitated only a fraction of a second. Then, deciding that would give Brian the advantage, he walked steadily into the large, open kitchen. His eyes fell to Brian, sitting at the round kitchen table, hunched over his laptop with his cell in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
“I don’t give a fuck what he thinks, Theodore. Those boards are for shit.” He leaned back as he spoke and the muscle shirt stretched over his chest. Justin’s mouth suddenly went dry.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He’d forgotten how good Brian looked first thing in the morning, when he was just Brian. No Armani suit. No perfect hair. No businessman mask.
Just mussed, slightly cranky, beautiful Brian.
Oh, fuck. There was no way he would survive three days of this.
“I want new boards by noon today. Yes, I said noon, Ted. That’s plenty of time. Email them as soon as they’re ready.” Brian noticed Justin then, and his eyes lit up, despite the angry tone. He flashed Justin a rare, toothy grin…the kind that was only reserved for him.
Justin was going to fucking cry.
Brian motioned to the kitchen with his coffee cup, and while he finished his call, Justin went to investigate, finding a bag of pastries from his favorite bakery. He wasn’t going to bother asking how exactly Brian had managed to let himself in and out of the house without a key. He heard the soft shuffle of Brian’s feet as he came to stand at the breakfast bar to watch him.
“Good morning, Sunshine.”
“Hmph.”
Brian laughed quietly, sending a shiver up Justin’s spine that he chose to ignore. “I forget that you’re not exactly the most talkative this early in the day.”
“Who the fuck is?”
Justin sensed Brian’s grin and pushed away the one threatening to form on his own lips. They’d had this routine down to an art those first years when everything had seemed possible.
“Well, you might not be the most cheerful, but your ass can still make any suit look like fucking Armani.”
Without looking up, Justin asked, “You trying to ply me with charm and baked goods, Kinney?”
Brian moved so quickly, Justin hadn’t even been aware he’d stepped behind him. He was trapped between Brian and the counter. There was that awareness that ran through his blood, breath, skin… everything. Brian’s heat seeping through the material of his suit, his body’s ingrained instinct to lean back into it, and Justin inhaled. That scent that was distinctly Brian… seeping into his skin, overtaking senses and reason.
“I could ply you with something a little more --”
Fingers against skin, and Justin trembled somewhere he thought had long stopped feeling anything. It was instant. The attraction, the loss of breath, the arousal. Everything he felt compounded into one overwhelming sensation. Brian’s cheeks skimming his gently, breath touching him, and Justin forced his knees not to buckle. When soft lips grazed his chin, he bit back a whimper…
He knew he would lose everything that he’d fought for.
So he opened his mouth to tell Brian to stop, but other words rushed out on their own.
“Are you ever planning on telling me about the bashing?”
It was as if he had doused Brian with cold water. The abrupt change in his breathing, the hand that stilled just beneath the hem of his shirt where it had begun to explore further. They stood front to back, the only sound their breathing, and eventually Brian expelled a loud sigh, followed by, “Fucking Mikey.”
Justin felt him pull back, never looking up but sensing Brian come to stand in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
“Because it’s not important.”
Justin glared at him now.
“It’s not. Whatever you’re thinking… I -- fuck. Why the hell can’t you just leave it alone, Sunshine?”
Justin tensed. Straightening his shoulders and backing away from the counter, he deposited his empty cup and plate into the sink and moved past Brian to the living area. He knew Brian was following him. “Maybe because I’m not some seventeen year old twink who’s looking for something that isn’t there, and you’re not some twenty-nine year old emotionally stunted club boy with a Peter Pan syndrome,” he threw over his shoulder. Shoving his arms into his coat with more force than necessary, he added, “We’re grown-ups now, Brian. This shit -- dysfunctional and twisted -- it can’t work. I don’t want it.”
Brian had opened his mouth to speak, but Justin shook his head, walking to and opening his door before turning.
“I don’t want you here when I get back.”
“I have three days.”
“Fuck your three days.”
He slammed the door and vaulted down the stairs, the cold air hitting him the minute he stepped out of his building. He shivered but continued at the same hurried pace, just this side of running until he reached the station. There he paused and covered his face with frozen hands.
“Shit.”
######
“Um, Bossman?”
Justin gritted his teeth and glared at one of his oldest employees. “How many fucking times have I told you not to call me that, Steve?”
He found his glare returned and a file dumped on his desk as Steve left his office.
Less than a minute later, David opened the door and leaned against the frame. “What the fuck got up your ass, today?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
“I beg to differ there. Whatever is making you this pissed off, it’s not our fault, so do you think you could hold back on abusing the staff?” David entered the room, closing the door before stopping in the middle of the room, arms crossed. “Is this about Matt?”
Justin snorted, rifling through the pile of papers and files for the newest delivery reports.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a no. I didn’t think it was, anyway. I never saw Matt get this reaction from you.”
“I’m having a reaction?”
“Ah, yeah. You’re being a raving asshole, Justin.”
“Fuck off, David.”
“You first.”
Justin was going to fire the little shit today. Swear to God he was. He looked up, his eyes narrowed, to meet David’s hostile stare. “Don’t push me.”
“Well, then don’t treat me and the rest of the staff like we’re your personal punching bags, and I won’t call you on your crap. It’s pretty simple.”
Justin opened his mouth, then thinking better of it, he nodded. The fucker was right. “Just tell everyone to leave me alone.” David continued to stare at him. “I’ll apologize to them later, okay?” That received a nod, and the room was empty a second later.
Justin let his head fall on his desk.
Fucking Brian.
######
It had taken Justin a better part of the morning to shove all thoughts of Brian out of his mind, and by the time he’d managed to concentrate enough, he was behind schedule. He’d gone out of his office for a few brief minutes to apologize to Steve, who had just shaken his head and waved him away. Steve was like that. He didn’t hold a grudge. It was probably why he and David worked so well. ‘Cause David… he was a bitch when he was pissed off.
Which he had been all morning.
But as soon as he’d delivered that apology (and a few random others), Justin had stowed away in his office.
He was not fit for human consumption.
Unfortunately, every half hour or so, David entered with some new paper to be looked at, order to be approved, or messages to deliver. All done in a very angry tone. It was Justin’s punishment.
The door flew open, right on time, and Justin glanced up with as much patience as he could muster. “Yes?”
David raised an eyebrow. “You’re buying the staff lunch today,” he told Justin, shoving a receipt at him that needed to be signed, waiting. Justin bit back a sigh, another common event of the day, and did as he was told. He shoved it back at David and waited for him to leave.
When he didn’t, he looked up, a little annoyed now. “What, David?”
“I was just wondering if the gorgeous man standing in our showroom has anything to do with your foul mood this morning.”
Justin closed his eyes. Shit.
“God damn it.”
He pushed out of his chair and stepped around an interested-looking David to the door. He glanced out, recognizing the tilt of the head that was, at that very moment, looking at one of Justin’s newest pieces. “Shit. Fuck. Goddamnit.”
“You said that one already.”
He ignored the amusement in David’s voice and took a deep breath, fortifying his wall… setting another brick before heading out to take care of Brian. He stood quietly behind him, watching his face as Brian took in the large canvas. He knew he shouldn’t, but he needed to know. He always needed to know.
“What do you think?”
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
“Good.” Brian turned to him. “‘Cause it’s -- definitely not your best. But, what the fuck do I know about art, right?”
“Quite a bit, I think.” David’s voice drifted over to them. He pointed at the painting. “I hate that damn thing.”
Brian smiled over at David. “Brian Kinney. Justin’s… fill in the blank.”
David smothered a laugh at the look Justin sent Brian and waved. “David Anderson. Justin’s assistant and pain in the ass.”
“Ah… I used to be that, too, once.”
“Brian. Please.”
David smirked. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Brian.” He grinned at Justin’s shocked expression. “You talk like you wouldn’t believe when you’re drunk, J.” He nodded at them before turning away.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“He seems useful.” Brian watched David walk away.
“He’s married. The kind that doesn’t fuck around, so forget about it.”
Brian turned back, anger crossing his face. “Well, good for him.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else but didn’t, returning his gaze to the painting. “Is this what Daphne was talking about? Flat, uninspired…”
“This isn’t your place, Brian.”
“You’re here. It’s my place.”
Justin closed his eyes. He was going to kill him. He was. “Stop saying shit like that. It’s not you.”
“How the fuck would you know if it was?” Brian glanced over when Justin said nothing back. “There are things you won’t let me tell you.”
“Because I don’t care, Brian. I don’t need to hear them. I don’t want to.”
Brian shrugged. “Fine. So… show me what’s kept you in New York all these years.”
Somehow everything I own smells of you
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true
Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think just do
His eyes strayed to the covered painting, silently waiting to be finished, and his hands ached to touch it. To pour the frustration of the day into the thickness of colors. Wanted to sweep his hand across nothing and fill it with life… To command it to his liking.
One down. Two to go.
The hardest day he’d had in a long time was coming to a close, and Justin couldn’t have been more grateful to see it end.
Brian hadn’t made it easy. He’d stayed at the gallery until Justin broke down and agreed to dinner. Apparently, for a man who never made it down to New York, Brian had a favorite restaurant for every type of food. Justin had chosen Italian because, petty as he was feeling, he knew the extra “carbs” would annoy Brian.
He’d received an amused smirk in return and Brian’s suggestion of heading to Becco.
Justin would go but he wouldn’t like it.
Dinner had proven to be a lesson in self-control. Brian managed to get him to talk, despite what Justin had promised himself, and before he realized it, they were trading stories about clients, tricks, and problems. It was like it once was… when their lives had intertwined so closely.
Justin knew that disentangling from that -- from the life they’d shared -- was the hardest thing he’d ever had to experience. He wasn’t willing to go back.
But, when Brian’s eyes lit up at the mention of Gus or re-telling Emmett’s latest debacle, he felt like that seventeen year old he’d sworn he no longer was. His insides would tremble with the flip-flop he always got in the pit of his stomach when around Brian. He could feel the heat rising in his body, the desire mingle with something else -- doubt and fear -- and his mind screamed to get up and run away.
Sitting in a restaurant in the middle of Manhattan, he’d looked across the table and seen Brian. Noticed the slight crinkles when he smiled at him. How the hair at his temples was grayed slightly. The ease in his stance, on his face -- a peace he hadn’t realized was there.
And he fell. Hard and fast. Like he did that night so many years ago.
The ride back to the apartment had been hell. Brian next to him the whole time. His shoulder pressed against Justin’s, the heat of skin seeping through and scalding him. Justin had gritted his teeth so hard, he was surprised he hadn’t chipped a tooth. When Brian’s hand fell on his thigh, he’d jumped out of his skin, scooting over a few inches for distance.
For a moment, he’d met Brian’s eyes -- sparkling with something Justin did not want to see -- then looked away quickly. They’d fallen into a strained silence that had lasted all the way home.
And now they were alone and aware of each other, with words that needed to be said, no matter how Justin felt about it.
His eyes closed at the oddly familiar sounds of Brian. They weren’t noises that should have been distinguishable from ones he’d heard before, yet they were unique. They had an echo, a promise that Justin refused to acknowledge. They were Brian noises. Sounds generated from his energy… his force and power.
So, they were wholly different from anything else he’d heard in his home.
He’d refused to open his eyes to watch Brian walk across the expanse from the kitchen (where he’d been fiddling with something) to where he sat in the sitting room, surrounded by files and papers Justin assumed were for Kinnetic. No matter how much he wanted that image ingrained in his memory. To last him after this was over.
There was a shifting, and he ventured a look at Brian, gaze falling on the back of his head.
So familiar… So different.
“Come sit by me.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a road to disaster. Justin knew that.
“You never answered my question from this morning.”
“Because you already know it.”
Brian still wasn’t looking at him and it was frustrating. If he was going to lie (even though he never would), he could at least look at him when he did.
“Liar.”
“Am I?”
Justin sighed, pulling himself up from the futon (the first piece of furniture he had ever bought and now kept for sentimental reasons), and walked, his bare feet making no noise. He sat down on his coffee table, across from Brian, and stared at him until his gaze was met. “Tell me what happened.”
Brian’s eyes softened slightly. Setting aside the papers he’d been looking at, Brian leaned forward as he spoke. “It’s not why I’m here, Justin.” When he started to argue, one of Brian’s hands covered Justin’s mouth, the other pulling on Justin’s arm to bring him closer. “Stop fucking fighting this.”
He stiffened when Brian’s lips brushed his, once, twice, and then they were pressed against his mouth. The pressure deepened and Justin clenched and unclenched hands that wanted to touch everything that was Brian. He felt the distinct grip of Brian’s hand in his hair. Brian’s mouth working his unyielding one, nips soothed by kisses, the quick slip of warm tongue that left the aftertaste of scotch on his.
Justin knew there was no fighting it. No matter how he tried. Because in the end, Brian’s touch broke through those steely walls he hid behind. His hands took a hold of Brian’s face, and he pulled back. Eyes meeting, clashing of hunger and need… his mouth fell on Brian’s and he caught the moan of satisfaction with the kiss.
It was a crash of taste and heat and lips and tongues… hands at his back, fingers clutching hair, skin brushing… teeth mashing… breaths colliding. Like it always was. Like it had never been. He was in Brian’s lap, groaning at the contact… years of need fighting with self-preservation. He lost to the sensations and happiness that bubbled inside. Hands fumbled with buttons and clothes, aching for contact with skin. He pushed into the hardness and heat that rubbed against him… pants escaping between kisses… to his face, his mouth… Brian’s lips skimming over his neck, down to his collarbone, and Justin shivered involuntarily.
Legs wrapped around Brian’s waist, he grasped hair and pulled Brian’s head away roughly. Meeting eyes filled with unrestrained desire, his lips skimmed Brian’s, biting and licking. His whispered words falling into Brian’s open mouth.
“Fuck me. Now.”
Part Four
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If all goes as planned, I will have this story finished and posted by the weekend. :) Just a heads up.
