cheapfcuk is turning one year older and for that she deserves a story
– or two.
B – I love you enough to give you RPS and QAF…now blow out your candles and
make a wish!
A disclaimer to the masses: I finished all of this at the crack of dawn, it
is completely and utterly unedited. The mistakes are likely horrid and I'm not
even sure if it all makes sense...proceed with caution.
Post 513 (assumes all canon through the end of the series). The title is the
new single from David Gray’s forthcoming album. You can get the song from you
send it here.
The section titles are lyrics from said song. DO NOT HATE ON MY SECRET LOVE
OF SONG FIC.
seven ways it could have happened
***
There’s things I might have said
Only wish I could
“Hey.” He puts a hand on Justin’s shoulder to get his attention.
“Hey!” Justin’s brow furrows, his mouth moves as if to speak but no sound comes
out.
“So I was thinking…” Brian trails a few fingers over Justin’s neck. He feels
reassured by how fast the pulse races beneath his skin. He has a fleeting thought
about leaning over and biting down on Justin’s jugular to taste the life there.
“Yeah?” Justin moves a little closer. Overhead a familiar flight number is called
for final boarding.
“Don’t you need to be on the plane?”
Justin shrugs, looks around, “I guess.”
Brian smiles, “Come on.” He picks up Justin’s carry on and starts to walk toward
the gate. Justin swallows hard when Brian presents his own boarding pass to
a young blonde in a navy blue suit who is shameless in her appraisal of Brian.
He brushes the girl’s wrist as he reclaims his identification, she blushes.
But then Brian reaches back and waits for Justin to take his hand as they disappear
through the door. The blonde watches, crestfallen.
“You’re sitting in coach?”
Brian buckles his seatbelt and reclines his chair, “First class was sold out.”
Justin chuckles and leans close, his lips graze Brian’s neck, “I love you.”
Brian smiles but keeps looking forward, “Do you see an attendant? I need a fucking
drink.” Justin looks forward, trying to find one.
When his face turns back to Brian their noses are inches apart. Brian smiles
wide, “I love you, too.”
The man in the window seat beside them shifts uncomfortably as they start to
make out. The charge in the air buzzes around them, reverberating off the cabin
walls. The man swears he sees sparks. He thanks God this is a short flight.
**
We can twist and shout
“Oh, Jesus.” Justin sighs and leans back against his front door.
“Nice to see you, too.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Well you only turn 21 once.”
“Brian, I’m 22. And you don’t do birthdays.”
“Are you gonna fucking let me in or what?”
“How did you get here? Are you drunk?”
“High, actually. I drove.”
“You drove? From Pittsburgh?”
“That is where I live, Sunshine.”
“You got high, thought you might pay me a visit for the first time in a fucking
year and got in your car and drove five fucking hours in the middle of the night?”
“Don’t you just know me so well.” Brian leans heavy against the doorjamb. He
licks his lips and lowers his eyes. Justin always did know him too well.
Justin can smell him now, road trip and marijuana and shampoo that cost too
much and cologne that Justin reacts to like one of Pavlov’s fucking dogs. “Come
in.”
“Are you really 22?”
“Fuck you.” Justin starts to smile.
Justin ushers him in and shuts the door. Brian takes a look around, his eyes
adjusting to the low light. The apartment is small and empty. Brian has never
been more grateful for anything in his whole life.
He grabs Justin, pulls him toward him roughly. He had way too many beers on
the drive up and way too many joints before that to be cautious or gentle.
“Happy Birthday,” he whispers loudly as he presses his lips to Justin’s face.
He runs his mouth over the boy’s eyelids and cheekbones and the edges of his
ears.
Justin turns his face upwards, Brian can feel his lips curl up into a smile.
“Thanks,” Justin sighs and presses his lips to Brian’s. The old familiar rush
of blood washes over him and he pushes harder, needs more.
Justin backs them up the couch, the only piece of furniture he’s managed to
acquire in his time here. He pushes Brian down roughly. He straddles him and
leans heavy against him. They’re already panting and moaning into each other’s
mouths.
Justin struggles with Brian’s pants and then his own. When they’re both naked
from the waist down he looks down at Brian, “Roll over.”
Brian stares at him through the dark for a long minute. He finally sighs and
gets on his stomach on the couch, “You’re lucky I love you.”
Justin laughs, rolls a condom on, “I wouldn’t call it luck.”
He pushes Brian’s thighs apart and slides two slick fingers inside of him. Brian
hisses and tenses. Justin pets his lower back and whispers relax a dozen
times.
When Brian’s hips start to come up to meet his hand he pulls his fingers out,
positions himself and pushes in quickly. His eyes shut in remembrance of the
million times before when he’s felt this good. “Alright, maybe it is luck,”
he whispers before he starts to thrust.
Laying in the dark, hours later, with Brian snoring lightly over the side of
his face, he lights a cigarette and thinks that it’s nice to get what you wish
for on your birthday.
**
Gonna close my eyes, gonna watch you go
The slide of the loft door opening startles him. He dries his hands and walks
out of the bathroom. When he gets to the top of the stairs in the bedroom he
sees Justin standing in the open doorway, his luggage at his feet.
Brian gives a forced smile, “Hey.”
“Hey,” Justin’s bottom lip quivers.
“Hey,” Brian walks closer to him and moves the bags inside and closes the door.
Justin stands stock still, “I’m terrified.”
Brian pulls him close and lets Justin burry his head in Brian’s neck. Brian
strokes the back of his head softly and kisses his temple. “It’ll be great.
You’ll be amazing.”
“No, not that,” Justin’s voice is muffled as his lips move against Brian’s neck.
“I can’t lose you.”
“What?” Brian pushes Justin’s shoulders so their eyes meet.
“I can’t walk away from this,” his eyes well and when he blinks a tear falls.
Brian keeps on hand on Justin’s neck and reaches down for the duffle bag with
the other. He opens the loft door and guides Justin down the stairs to the street.
When they’re on the curb Brian calls a cab.
When he hangs up he looks Justin in the eye. “You’re going to go to New York
and get famous and have an amazing time. You’re going to call and tell me all
about how artists give the best hand jobs and how much modern art goes for these
days. I’ll come to all your fucking shows and lie to you when I promise not
to buy your stuff. When you’ve conquered the big city and you’re tired of the
fucking subway you can come home,” Brian tilts Justin’s chin up and forces him
to keep looking at him, “…and then we’ll move to Paris and you can retire.”
Justin’s heart hammers in his chest and he tries to get in a deep breath.
The cab is suddenly there and Brian is putting his bag in the trunk. Justin
hears Brian say something to the driver and sees money exchange hands.
Brian comes back and opens the door nearest Justin. “I’m not going anywhere,
you aren’t risking anything. If you think I could find it in myself to fall
in love again…well you’re an idiot.”
When Justin looks up he’s blinking back tears and smiling, “I love you.”
“I know you do. Now go to New York and get painting. I want to be in Paris before
I’m fucking 40.”
“I better hurry,” Justin laughs lightly and Brian grabs him hard around the
neck. They kiss until the cab driver honks for the sixth time.
**
Perfect summer’s night
“I don’t know, Daph. He hardly ever calls. And I…I don’t know.”
“So go to him.” He hears her punching buttons on her microwave.
“What are you making?”
“Popcorn.”
“Sounds good. I wish you were here making popcorn for me.”
“If I’d gotten into Columbia for fucking med school I would be.” That wound
is still sore and Justin hates that he forgets sometimes.
“Yeah, cause Stanford is such a fucking hardship.”
She’s quiet for a minute, “You should come visit me.”
“I will.” He means it.
“Well, you’ve always had to push him kicking and screaming. I don’t know why
you thought this would be any different.”
“But Daph,” he sighs. He knows in a way she’s right…but he thought after the
near-marriage, after the long-awaited I love yous. He just can’t believe after
everything he’s back to pining over Brian Kinney.
“But nothing, he’s a big pussy and you know it. He’s probably sitting at home
right now smoking and drinking and staring at that painting you gave him before
you left. He’ll jerk off thinking about you later and fall asleep unsatisfied
and do it all again tomorrow, because you are the only person he is ever, ever
going to love.” She lets out a laugh when she’s done with her speech. He can
hear her popcorn exploding in the background.
“Talking to you always makes me feel better, and then I hang up and all that
dread creeps right back into my gut.”
“You have to do something. Get off your ass and go see him. Quit waiting for
him to come to you.”
“I guess you’re right,” he sighs dramatically.
“I am always right when it comes to you and Brian, go book a plane ticket and
get some sleep.”
“Night, Daph.”
“Goodnight, I love you.”
“You, too.”
--
“Hi.”
“Hi,” Brian tries to hide his smile.
“Happy to see me?” Justin smirks and walks into the loft.
“Yeah, I, uh…”
Justin drops his bag and sighs dramatically, “I got tired of waiting for you.
So here I am.”
Brian stares. Justin steps closer.
Justin puts a hand on his hip and looks around, there are groceries on the kitchen
counter, “Did Daphne call you?”
Brian breaks into an even bigger grin, “Yeah.”
“Bitch,” Justin shakes his head.
“She called to bitch me out for making you come here.”
Justin smiles and pulls Brian closer by the lapels of his jacket, “You should
have come to me.”
Brian raises an eyebrow, “You realize you’ve been gone all of three weeks?”
“22 days.”
“22 days…” Brian rolls his eyes.
“22 days is a long time to go without sex.”
“Mmm, especially sex with me.” Brian kisses him. “Well I guess it’s good this
time you’ll only have to go a week.”
“What?”
Brian points to a plane ticket on the kitchen counter. “I’d like you to know
I had that before your girlfriend called.”
Justin laughs. Brian’s probably telling the truth.
Brian fucks him in the kitchen, Justin’s cheek pressing against the plane ticket
where he’s bent over the countertop. They spend the next 40 hours in bed before
Justin has to catch his flight back to New York. When he lands he calls Brian
and leaves a message, “I think 7 days might even be too long.”
Brian listens to his voice float across the loft as it echoes through the machine.
He’s smoking a cigarette and looking at a painting Justin gave him just before
he left for New York the first time. When the machine cuts off he nods to himself
and thinks summer’s coming soon. Summer’s a good time to move.
**
Won’t you take my hand darlin’ on that old dance floor?
Jennifer Taylor’s wedding announcement shouldn’t be a surprise, except that
it is. Brian hasn’t talked to Justin for months and he can’t figure out for
the life of him why Jennifer would invite him to her wedding.
He uneasily settles on her desire for at least one decent gift.
The bigger mystery is why he goes, clad in a new black Armani and armed with
a joint in one pocket and a fifth of whiskey in the other.
The ceremony’s outside in early fall. Some dyke Brian remembers from Lindsay
and Melanie’s many parties marries them. Jennifer cries and so does the appropriately-aged
doctor she’s marrying. Brian vaguely recalls Justin mentioning a doctor that
was kind and ‘better suited’ for his mother entering the picture last year.
Back when he and Justin still talked occasionally.
Justin and his sister stand beside their mother. Justin wears a tuxedo and Brian
gets a lump in his throat when he sees him across the crowded room. It makes
him wish he hadn’t smoked before he left the house. Pot did have a tendency
to turn him into a little bitch.
The reception is casual and when he finds out there’s an open bar he loves Jennifer
Taylor, or rather Jennifer something else now, more than he ever has.
When she approaches Brian her ivory silk dress brushes his hand and makes his
heart beat faster. She asks him to dance and he realizes he misses her. Some
slow song allows them to shuffle along, Jennifer complimenting Brian’s ability
to lead a lady across the dance floor. She’s slightly tipsy and smells like
sugar and champagne, it makes Brian smile.
“He misses you terribly,” she says abruptly as she looks over his shoulder,
presumably at her son. Brian spins them and plants his eyes on Justin, standing
at the bar and laughing with Daphne.
“Go talk to him,” she squeezes his arm and releases him.
“He loves you now more than ever,” she tosses over her shoulder like an afterthought,
but it hits Brian in a gut so hard he bends slightly at the waist.
Alcohol an easy excuse, he makes his way across the room to the bar.
“Hey,” he puts a light hand on Justin’s shoulder as he leans to kiss Daphne.
Daphne giggles knowingly, she still emails him sometimes. Writes him short notes
about Justin’s latest show and their new apartment in the Village and how big
of a loser whatever guy Justin’s currently keeping company with is. She’s in
residency at Mt. Sinai and Brian’s never told her how proud he is of her, too.
She excuses herself and suddenly they’re alone.
“Your mom seems happy,” Brian leans back against the bar.
Justin smiles genuinely and leans next to him, “She is, and Sean’s great.”
Brian nods, sips his drink.
“I miss you,” Justin blurts out and then guzzles his beer.
Brian nods, sips his drink.
Justin pushes off the bar and turns to face Brian, “Wanna dance?”
Brian nods, sets his drink down.
Another slow song starts and Brian rolls his eyes heavenward to say thank you.
A mirror image of two men they used to be, they dance across the floor and captivate
the room. Hearts thumping, it feels like the first time they danced together
like this – only better.
They twirl and dip and laugh together. When the song ends they kiss and everyone
in the room watches in rapt wonder.
They part breathless and Brian whispers, “I miss you, too.”
**
Just the bullets whispering gentle, amongst the new green leaves
Justin’s walking home from seeing a movie with a girl he met at a gallery show
a few months ago. She’d flirted shamelessly and complimented him thoughtfully
and hadn’t blanched when he told her he was gay. They’d seen quite a lot of
one another since.
Sarah insisted he see Mad, Hot Ballroom with her in order to suspend
the reality of past due rent and empty refrigerators (though really, Justin
never had problems like those) for a few hours. They danced out of the theatre
around midnight, laughing and glowing and spinning under the city lights.
He rounds the corner onto Attorney, deep down in the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
It’s late and it’s dark, but Justin got over his fear of walking alone on city
streets a long time ago. The two men walking toward him are in jeans barely
hanging on to their asses and t-shirts nine sizes too big, but this isn’t a
strange sight (in this city or any other).
From the moment they grab the bag on his shoulder until he feels an unfamiliar
heat bloom in his gut as the world goes dark, everything around him moves in
slow motion like the climax of some action films he’s seen.
--
Brian’s sleeping when the call comes. Later he’ll thank the gods above that
when the paramedics pulled Justin’s phone from his bag Brian’s number was listed
next to emergency.
Brian’s only felt more hopeless and helpless and out of control on one other
night in his life. And he supposes then he felt those things just a tiny bit
more then because he saw the blood, tasted it on his lips. It ran thick on his
fingers and down his arms. Without the visual confirmation he can’t reach that
level of panic yet. But, that time will come.
There were no flights leaving Pittsburgh until morning and the weather’s shitty
tonight besides. He figures with the new snow tires on the Corvette he can go
100 and be there in under four hours. Driving is the fastest way. He’d made
the decision instantly.
His phone rang so many times in the first half hour he nearly threw it out the
window. Then realized the hospital might try to call.
“Hey stranger,” he was sure he sounded sleepy, but he wanted to hear Justin’s
voice. It felt like weeks, even if they’d talked four days ago, since he’d heard
it last.
“Hello, I’m calling about Justin Taylor.”
There’s something about the background noise at a hospital that is indescribable
but unmistakable. His stomach was immediately in his throat, he could barely
speak, “Yes?”
“There’s been an accident.”
He taps the steering wheel and rolls the window down. It’s cold out but the
air stinging his cheeks is welcome relief. Tom Petty plays on the radio. He
turns up Mary Jane’s Last Dance and let’s himself cry for the first time
since he found out.
This time he’ll make sure Justin knows he’s there. This time he won’t leave
him. This time he’ll do everything right.
**
Tell the reaper man, and the stars above
That you’re the one I love
Brian’s cancer comes back, as he always suspected it would. And he doesn’t plan
to tell anyone, least of all Justin, but then he’s in the hospital and Deb’s
calling all the troops before he can tell her to fuck off around the tube shoved
down his throat.
The thought of Justin seeing him like this makes him sick. He blames it on the
radiation.
It’s been six months and when Justin walks into the room, straight off the plane
from Rome, they both feel like it was only yesterday.
They watch horrible reality television and some crazy gay drama on one of the
cable networks. Justin says the lead character is a lot like Brian. Brian scoffs
and shuffles to the bathroom to vomit.
They’ve had the same argument every morning for the last sixteen days.
“Go home. Get the fuck out of here.” Brian pushes away his breakfast tray, refuses
to feed a body that’s betrayed him so thoroughly.
“Fuck you. I’m not going anywhere.” Justin stares at Brian, daring him to say
more.
Justin leans back in a chair that is now imprinted with the curves of his body
and opens the latest GQ. There’s an article on Brokeback Mountain
and Justin wonders idly if Brian will be out of the hospital in time to see
Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger make out on the big screen. The article reveals
the make out scene was cut. Justin tosses the magazine onto the floor and mumbles
about how unfair life is.
--
It’s late and the room is particularly dark tonight. Justin hears a strange
noise and sits straight up in the cot the nurse started rolling into Brian’s
room after the fourth or fifth night. Under the bathroom door a sliver of light
escapes and inside Justin hears Brian moan.
He’s on his feet and yanking at the door in seconds. “Let me in,” he barks.
Brian opens the door seconds later, his lack of protest worries Justin more
than anything that’s happened in the three weeks they’ve been here.
Brian’s naked and wet and sitting on the floor. His hospital gown is in shreds
in the shower and he’s shaking.
He looks up at Justin, “Go back to your life.”
Justin immediately starts his typical response but Brian cuts through with a
look he hasn’t seen before, “I won’t ask you again. And I won’t beg you. Please
go.”
It’s the way Brian says please that makes Justin go. He understands that this
is perhaps all he can give Brian now. He knows without doubt that if the roles
were reversed Brian would have laughed, picked him up the floor, dried him off,
put him back in bed and been there in the morning.
But they aren’t the same people and they don’t need the same things. Justin
knows that Brian needs him gone, for whatever reason. And even if it’s the hardest
thing he’s ever done, and it is, he’ll do it.
--
Justin doesn’t go back to New York, though he makes sure everyone tells Brian
that he has. He stays in the loft and sleeps in Brian’s bed and drinks Brian’s
whiskey and feels incredibly guilty about all of it.
One Friday morning he’s woken out of a deep sleep by the familiar scent of Columbian
coffee. He walks slowly to the top of the stairs and peeks around the corner.
Deb stands in the kitchen, popping gum with a hand on her hip.
“Hey, Sunshine,” her voice makes him drop down onto the top step.
She pours two cups of coffee methodically and walks over to where he sits. She
takes a seat next to him and stays silent for a minute. Justin can’t ever remember
Deb looking like this, not even when Vic died.
“It’s not good. You need to go see him.” She drinks her coffee and Justin nods
and though he feels sick enough to, he won’t let himself puke. He doesn’t feel
like he has the right to.
--
He waits until it’s late, he has to sneak into the room. Brian’s eyes are closed,
but he’s not sleeping.
He can sense Justin in the room, “Go away.” His eyes don’t open.
Justin leans toward him, brushes his lips against Brian’s neck, subconsciously
checking for a pulse. “I am going away. You’re coming with me.”
Brian’s eyes open, Justin’s gut clenches. He forces a smile and puts two plane
tickets in Brian’s face.
“Ibiza calls.”
Brian looks between Justin’s face and the tickets for a long time. “You’re fucking
insane.”
Justin puts the tickets away and gets Brian clothes out of a bag he brought.
He turns back around and motions for Brian to get up. Justin tries to hide his
surprise when Brian complies. He was ready for a fight.
Brian gets dressed slowly. He’s weak, but Justin doesn’t offer to help.
When he’s done he turns around and looks at Justin, “You’ll regret this.”
Justin shakes his head and takes Brian’s hand. He leans up and kisses Brian
soundly. Brian sighs into the kiss, it’s been too long.
“Never.” Justin whispers.
--
As the plane takes off Justin holds Brian’s hand tightly. He was always a little
scared of flying.
“Did you pack sun block?” Brian asks. He looks tired.
Justin hands him a pillow and smiles, “Sure did.”
Brian nods and closes his eyes, “Can’t have you burning your lily white ass
and using that as an excuse when I wear you out.”
Ibiza is bright and warm and wonderful. As they lie on the beach and watch the
sun dip down below the horizon Justin watches Brian's skin glow orange and yellow
and gold. He’s never looked more beautiful.
The End
Feedback to throughthelens78@yahoo.com