Erin
I had to do a little cost benefit analysis research and I came across a good introduction article that had subheads throughout, and strangely they made me think of (this is disgusting) Brian and Justin.
This is post season four, completely spoiler free, hard R. The subheads were stolen from that article and reworked slightly to suit my needs (though I believe I still have them close enough to correct, please forgive any glaring errors)...
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Perhaps the route problem with CBA is that the computation of some components of costs and benefits is intuitively obvious but there are others for which intuition fails to suggest methods of measurement. Therefore, some basic principles are needed as a guide.
There Must Be a Common Unit of Measurement
He comes back to Pittsburgh in the spring. His instincts tell him to call first, but he decides not to. His instincts also tell him to refer to Pittsburgh as home when everyone on the set asks where he’s going next, but he’s careful about such things at this stage in his life and gently says he’s visiting family.
It’s been eight months. It’s been a long time. His instincts tell him it’s been too long, and his instincts are rarely wrong.
The Valuation of Benefits and Costs Should Reflect Preferences Revealed by the Choices We Have Made
He arrives on a Friday night. He gets to the loft after midnight and stands in the hall for what he guesses must be half an hour. He lets the familiar smell of the old, damp building seep into every pore. He slowly slides his open palms over the metal of a door that has let him in, shut him out, but never been locked.
He rolls two gold keys around their ring countless times. He remembers the day Brian pressed them into his hand and kissed his temple and whispered, “For when you come home.” And though his gut clenched and his mind raced, he wondered if this would ever actually be his home. He took the keys and slid them into his pocket and eventually wore them around his neck to remind him of a goal he’d worked so long and so hard to attain. A goal that calls him back to this place now, even if he doesn’t belong here anymore.
He repeats the alarm code in his head so many times it starts to invert itself. 1249 turns into 2194 and 4219 and then fuck if he can remember what order the numbers actually go in. He sits on his suitcase and ponders the origin of the numbers. Knowing Brian they are intentional, meaningful, but so well disguised as arbitrary no one will ever figure out what they represent. Justin supposes he could use that very description for much of Brian’s actions.
Benefits Are Usually Measured by Market Choices
He finally gets up and slips a key into the lock. It’s late and he’s tired and he needs to go figure out why it’s taken him this long to come back here. Why he decided not to visit in all these months.
He pulls back the door and feels an ache in his bicep that tells him it’s been a long time since he’s used that particular muscle in just this way. He throws his bag inside and steps to the key pad, he takes a breath and enters the code he thinks is correct, 1-2-4-9. He dials deliberately, as if that will make it right, and then hits ‘disarm.’ The beeping continues and the red light flashes, he panics and tries another combination. A minute later the blaring alarm sounds.
Fifteen minutes later four cops talk to Brian in a corner while Justin sits red-faced sipping a bottle of water at the kitchen counter. When the blue uniforms disappear beyond the metal door Justin thinks of all the illegal things they could have found in these four walls if they’d opened their eyes.
Brian walks slowly to where Justin sits. He eyes him, assessing the changes in his dress, his smell, his demeanor.
“You could have called,” Brian runs a hand through Justin’s longer hair and sits down beside him. He doesn’t sound angry.
“I wanted to surprise you,” he hasn’t looked in Brian’s eyes. Brian’s beginning to notice.
“Mission accomplished.” Brian gets a beer and goes to the bedroom. This isn’t how this was supposed to go at all, this isn’t how Justin planned it.
Justin follows Brian up the stairs and watches him change. His body has its natural and expected reaction, but his mind is in another place.
“Where were you?” He recognizes it is a ridiculous question.
Gross Benefits of an Increase in Consumption is an Area Under the Demand Curve
“Half way to orgasm when they called, fuck you very much.” Brian lifts his shirt over his head, peels off dark jeans, looks around for something he doesn’t find and decides that just underwear will do. Though if he admitted such things, he would say it feels strange. Justin’s eyes all over him after what feels like too long. And for the first time since they met this isn’t effortless.
Justin’s shoulders sag and he drops his head, when he was a child he often prayed for a rewind button. He’s never needed it more than he does right now. It isn’t that the code has changed or that the alarm went off or that Brian didn’t know he was coming home; it’s that eight months feels like eight years and it’s everyone’s fault and no one’s all at the same time.
“How long are you here?” Brian is quiet, pensive.
“Forever?” Justin sounds wounded.
Brian walks slowly across the room to Justin and puts a hand on his neck, “I doubt that.”
Justin sighs, “Why’d you change the code?”
“Did I?” Brian sips his beer and feigns ignorance.
“It used to be 1249.”
“Oh, right. Things change I guess.”
“Not always.” Justin waits and then adds, “You knew I’d be back, right?” He wished he didn’t feel so young right now.
“There are no guarantees. If you were going to come, I figured you’d call.” They both know Brian’s talking about more than just one phone call. They both know they’ve handled this in all the wrong ways.
“I’m sorry,” Justin mutters, and though he means it, deeply, it doesn’t sound that way. Brian wouldn’t care even if it did.
“Fuck that,” Brian shakes his head and crosses to his desk. “You’re out there living your life, so live it. Don’t fucking spend your time on the fucking phone with me.”
”I missed you. I missed us. I’m happy to be…here.” He wants to say home, doesn’t know if he has the right to. Justin thinks about a lesson in cost benefit analysis from high school economics. He thinks about what his success has cost him.
Brian lets out a humorless laugh, “Us?”
Something inside Justin snaps, “Fuck you.”
Brian looks his way with a furrowed brow, Justin’s tone surprises him.
Justin steps closer and speaks louder, “You know I went because I had to. You know I didn’t leave you. You know I will always come back to you.”
Brian sighs and sets his beer down, “God, I hope not.”
“What?” Justin feels blown apart.
“I hope not,” Brian’s eyes fill with intent now. “I hope you become the biggest fucking success Hollywood has ever seen. I hope you get everything you’ve ever wanted and never fucking come back to this hell hole.” Brian starts to walk away, but turns to add, “There’s nothing here worth coming back for.”
Some Measurements of Benefits Require the Valuation of Human Life
Justin steps forward and grabs Brian’s face. He kisses him harder than is necessary to get the point across. Nothing worth coming back for? Justin would laugh, or cry, but he’s too busy showing Brian what he’s worth.
Brian clutches at Justin’s waist and grips the ends of his hair and tears at his shirt until it gives way to warm skin. Justin feels invigorated. The dark cloud following him for so many months starts to dissipate.
He pushes Brian across the room and up the stairs and into the bed. He lays him flat across the middle and straddles his waist. He locks Brian’s wrists above his head and stares at him with eyes so intense Brian has to look away.
“Look at me,” Justin instructs. Then he waits until Brian’s face turns upwards again.
“Do you feel this?” He sits still and lets the energy around them speak for him. “Do you?” He rolls his hips to punctuate his words, watches Brian’s eyes turn to glass.
“Answer me,” he commands. He rolls his hips a few times more. Knows they may both come in their pants, doesn’t care.
Analysis Should Involve a With Versus Without Comparison
“Do you doubt this?” He leans down and presses his lips to Brian’s so hard teeth push through skin.
“This is all there is, all I will ever want,” Justin drops his head and breathes heavy for a minute. Clearly getting off on not just the friction, but the truth of the words. Words he knows Brian doesn’t want to hear, but cannot deny are true.
“Do you think it will ever be better. Ever? With anyone else?” Brian shakes his head no and Justin comes. His neck snaps back and his fingers release Brian’s wrists. He rides the waves with eyes shut tight.
Brian follows suit and looks shocked through the entire orgasm. Justin smiles, satisfied by that power. He lies gently on top of Brian’s body and buries his face in Brian’s neck. He breathes deep and drifts off, he hasn’t slept in forever.
He wakes to sunbeams lighting the dark behind his eyelids and the smell of expensive coffee that he now equates with Sunday mornings (even when it’s not Sunday and he’s not in Brian’s bed).
Cost Benefit Analysis Involves a Particular Study Area
Brian’s in his robe at the counter and the urge to paint him (navy silk gliding over sun kissed skin stretched taught over the muscles that fill his dreams, when he has them) is overwhelming. Justin hasn’t felt inspired since…since he last saw Brian. He stands at the top of the stairs and watches the mug rise and fall and the sheets of newspaper flip gracefully as if driven by a breeze coming from nowhere. He ponders muses and fine art and inspiration and has to stop himself from running to Brian and admitting that he is nothing without him. Brian would hate that. It makes Justin smile.
Instead he makes a slow decent to the coffee and sips it quietly, wincing at the heat and the depth of the taste. Brian was always a whore for things strong and bold that shock the system when consumed.
They watch each other as they drink the coffee.
“Want to tell me what last night was about?” Brian finally asks, while pretending to read the finance pages.
Justin watches Brian carefully and finally says, “You know you’re worth it, quit being such a fucking martyr. I can decide my own fate and determine my own happiness, so go fuck yourself if you honestly think I wasn’t coming back.”
Justin goes into the bathroom and leans against the sink; he stares in the mirror and tries to figure out where exactly this all went wrong. Brian asked him to move in and he decided to move away. Now he wants to come back and Brian’s shoving him out the door. He wonders, probably stupidly, if they will ever, ever be on the same page at the same time. Perhaps some love is fated to be a pain in your ass for your entire existence. He smiles sadly and splashes water on his face, Brian will certainly always be a pain in his ass…in one way or another.
Brian slides up behind Justin and puts his arms tightly around his waist. He kisses his shoulder blades and up the center of his back and finally sucks lightly on the side of Justin’s neck until he starts to writhe.
“Fuck me,” Justin’s eyes are closed and he knows this isn’t the right time. But it’s been so long and it’s the only thing he wants in this moment.
Brian’s got their underwear to their knees and his dick in Justin’s ass in less then ten heartbeats. Justin sags forward with relief that Brian wanted this just as much. They rut against the sink and Justin pushes back hard, trying to take Brian deeper and prevent his dick from getting smashed at the same time.
He mutters all the standard nonsensical platitudes that one does during sex but tries to litter them with the words that matter like need and love and home. They come together, as they often do, perfect back-arching symmetry visible in the mirror and a symphony of grunts filling the room.
When they’re done Brian slides to the floor. He rests against the tile and pulls Justin down on top of him. He is overwhelmed by how much he needed this, how much he needs Justin.
Decision Criteria
“I do want you to come home, when you’re ready. The new code is 4-8-8-4.”
Justin lifts his head and looks at Brian. He doesn’t try to stop the smile that spreads across his face, but he’s careful not to point out that is his birthday. He leaves it at, "I'm ready."
End
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