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Gradiva
Warnings:
Some chapters are heavy on smut, others are not. Overall, NC-17.
A fair amount of angst.
A little S&M, but nothing major at all.
Not beta-ed and written between midnight and 5 AM b/c of lack of sleep.
Random Meta:
lenajill
wanted Biblical references. Blame her.
I didn't put too many otherwise it would be a philosophy paper. If you really
want me to do that, I will, but not in a fic. I found my old notes on the Bible
and Nietzsche, so ... yeah, you REALLY don't want that.
viola69 and lenajill better be satisfied b/c I ain't rewriting this again. Also, they gave me the plot... or some of it. And pointed out stuff wrong with the original.
I didn't do the thing where Justin confronts Joanie, because:
(a) Justin is far too WASPY for a real smackdown with a woman, IMHO.
(b) Justin is fairly non-confrontational unlike, for instance, Craig.
(c) Randall and Cael are doing a fair amount of drama and smackdown, so not
going to steal their thunder.
I didn't want to RESOLVE the ending, so it's as Myrna would say "Hopeful,
if not happy."
References are from Nietzsche's "The wanderer and his shadow," "The Birth of Tragedy," and the "Antichrist." And of course, the Bible. And Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead."
* * * * * * * * *
It shouldn't hurt, but it does. He has no right to feel flayed, because he
said he knew what he could expect, and he should have expected it, but he never
stopped hoping. He'd stayed in the loft, coming down from the stage after his
drama-queen moment, waited until Brian came home reeking of sex, until Brian
came out of the shower. He'd started off small, with "Of course, the loft belongs
to you, so I can't really tell you whether or not to sell it." But when Brian
ignored him and went for the alcohol, he stopped him with a hand on his arm,
saying, "If we're really partners, we ought to make these decisions together."
He doesn't know whether he regrets saying it, because, after all, he ought to
know better than holding up something like that to Brian. Then again, he should
be able to say it... right? He doesn't know whether he waited long enough for
Brian to respond, wonders if he'd waited maybe another five seconds, Brian would
have said something.
He curls up on the couch next to Daphne, eating ice-cream straight out of the
box and watching something on TV that he can't focus on. He knows the knock
on the door is Brian, knows Brian is standing there watching him but he can't
bring himself to look. Daphne leaves the room, and Brian sits down on the couch
beside him, watches for a few minutes, then tries to kiss him. He turns away.
Brian turns off the television, then pulls Justin's legs across his lap and
throws an arm around his shoulder. Still Justin doesn't respond, and finally
Brian sighs in exasperation, saying, "Okay, what do you want?"
That's just the trouble though. Justin shakes his head and swallows before saying,
"Nothing... it's okay."
"Justin..."
"Where did Daphne go?" Justin asks, extricating himself from Brian's hold and
standing up, stretching to hide his eyes.
"Justin, tell me."
"It doesn't matter."
"Justin!"
"Let it go. I said it doesn't matter."
Brian shrugs and looks away. "Fine. If you're not hearing what you want..."
"I know. Stand up for myself." And when Justin continues to speak, he plays
with his hands restlessly, looking anywhere but at Brian. "But maybe I shouldn't...
want. You know? I mean, maybe it's not... right, for me to want that the person
I love would be willing to admit... that we're... together. Ethan couldn't
admit it..." He ignores the disdainful snort and continues reflectively, "...
he said it was nobody's business but ours, and I thought he was a coward, and
maybe I shouldn't think that someone is a coward if he can't... if I'm feeling
like a dirty secret. Maybe it's just me... or... maybe a real man would never
admit that he's in love with another man, because he isn't supposed to..."
When Justin realizes what he's said, he flushes, horrified. He eyes the door
and calls, "Daphne!" then turns to Brian, who's standing there, rooted to the
spot, and says urgently, "I'm sorry. I'm... look, go home, and... it's okay.
Forget I said anything... it's okay, really." He pulls Brian by the hand to
the door and lets him out, then collapses on the sofa, numb with shock. Daphne
comes in and looks at him and he stares at her. She sits next to him and he
puts his head in her lap. She strokes his hair for a while as they continue
watching TV, and then he clutches her waist and falls asleep.