Chapter 8
DeAnna Zankich
Sequel to | Sweet Redemption
Summary: The days leading up to the big `I do'.
Warnings: None
Author Notes: A thousand thanks to my sweet friend Kristina Grönberg for the title.
Spoilers: None
Vince is pale as death when he walks up to Michael and me at the piano. I look around for his lover and our man of the hour, but neither are anywhere to be found.
"Where are the naughty children?" I ask.
"They went off for a private chat," Vince says. He leans in to Michael and speaks against his ear. I can just make out what he says over the chatter, the rattle of cutlery and the tinkling of glasses. "Michael, I'm really sorry about that out there. Stuart can be a right cunt when he drinks and this whole thing with Brian . . . well, I reckon it brings out the worst in us as a pair. I've always tended to follow his lead with bad behavior. You'd think I'd be passed that being thirty, but . . . anyway. Sorry about all that."
"It's really okay, Vince," Michael says in that ever-forgiving way he has. I barely know him, but this is how I always think of him when I do. "I left because I felt like I was intruding. No biggie."
Vince nods and tries a weak smile. "Well, I just wanted to say . . ." "It's cool," Michael concludes, reflecting that same smile back.
"Vince, where the hell are they?" I say a bit sternly. Ever since we'd been in that hotel, I've been worried about Brian and Stuart slipping away together in an unauthorized way--and now I'm EXTREMELY worried about that very thing.
"It's all right, Kate," Vince assures me. "Stuart is . . . finishing things with Brian. I asked him to. They're just sorting it out." He glances to a door behind the piano marked `employee access only' and I sigh.
"You left them alone?" I ask. "Is that really wise?"
"They had to be alone," he replies sadly. "It was the only way Stuart would be honest and Brian would accept it. If they had an audience of any kind they would both play stupid games and not be serious about it. This way they're forced to just sort it."
"So, Stuart's breaking things off with him?" Michael says, his dark eyes wide. "Like, right now? Tonight?"
"Yeah," Vince says.
I know where Michael's going with this. He's worried that Brian will crack under too much emotion pressure here on his big night. I have to agree with him. Then, just as I look up at the `employee access only' door, Stuart and Brian come out of it. They're both still dressed and don't look too rumpled. In fact, they're actually smiling. It doesn't look like they fought OR fucked. By some lunatic miracle, I believe they truly just talked.
Stuart glances around until he locates us and then he starts walking over. Brian catches my eye for a split second then he turns and heads back into the throng of his well-dressed admirers.
"Hey," Stuart says as he joins us in our circle.
"Well?" Vince says, looking right into his lover's sapphire blues.
Stuart sighs and looks at Michael for a moment. His expression is just this side of coy. "Listen, sorry about acting like such a twat outside," he says to the other brunette. "I'm a bit drunk and sometimes I just . . . run at the mouth. I didn't mean anything."
I expect Michael to forgive him like he did Vince, but apparently whatever went on outside on the terrace was a bit more than young Mr. Novotny can let slide. The next thing he says surprises the hell out of me, even in my limited experience of Michael.
"Maybe you should go to a meeting or something `cause you don't hold your alcohol very well. You're a mean drunk." Michael just looks at Stuey coldly then he excuses himself and heads off in Brian's direction.
Stuart's eyebrows raise, his jaw drops and he eeks out a surprised little chuckle. "Fuckin' hell! Excuse me!"
"What did you do, dumbass?" I say, slugging him in the arm. "It was obviously unforgivable if MICHAEL won't forgive you!"
"Ow!" he complains, frowning at me as he rubs the wound I gave him. He's still cute even then, the little fucker. "I just told him the truth as I saw it," Stuart explains. "It's not my fault if he can't handle it."
Vince shakes his head. "You need a spanking, don't you? You're being a complete bastard to everyone!"
I can't tell if he's playing or not, so I just wait for Stuart's reaction. The lovely Irishman lowers his chin and stares at his lover with a challenging, sexy expression.
"Spank me, then. Take the belt to me, I don't care. But it's not going to change the fact that he's in love with Brian and just won't admit it."
Vince looks at me for a second, maybe for support or encouragement. "The point is, Stuart, no matter what the truth is about Michael's feelings, I'm certain he doesn't need a selfish, drunken twat like YOU blurting it out for everyone to hear. It's private."
"You guys aren't really fighting, are you?" I say because their collective tone is making me very anxious. I've never heard them snap at each other like this.
Stuart steps up to Vince slowly, like a stalking panther. Even I can feel the heat radiating off him as he gears up to further his point.
"Listen, you," he purrs, a little grin playing on his fabulous dark pink lips. "I said I was bloody sorry and if Brian's friend doesn't want to forgive me, he can fuck right off. Won't keep me awake."
Now I can see Vince struggling not to smile and I realize everything is actually okay with them. They're just playing rough as boys will do. Leaving them to it, I look across the room and watch as Michael connects with Brian in the middle of the crowd. Once again, the tall cute one excuses himself from the group of fawning colleagues chatting him up and he and Michael go off toward the terrace together.
For a second I can see Brian's face clearly as they pass. His expression startles me because I've never seen it on him before. It makes me want to run after him, but I don't. Michael can handle it.
I hope.
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Brian:
He grabbed two more glasses of champagne as he and Michael weeded through the crowd to the terrace. Handed one to his friend, Brian drained his own glass in two big swallows then belched discretely. He set the empty on the edge of a ceramic planter.
"Are you okay?" Michael said.
Brian had no reply. He wasn't okay, but he also wasn't NOT okay. He was just numb and numb was bad. Brian Kinney spent his entirely life trying to outrun feeling numb.
"What did you and Stuart talk about?"
They found a quiet bench in the corner of the terrace, tucked behind a row of large flower boxes. The scent of the freshly pruned hydrangea and snapdragons was sweet and keening back there. Brian inhaled, closing his eyes a little as he sat down with his long legs outstretched. Michael sat beside him and watched him warily.
"Brian, talk to me. Are you really okay?"
"Yes, Mikey. I'm fine." He smiled too brightly and too quickly and then it faded back to his anesthetized expression. He couldn't look at Michael for too long.
"What happened with Stuart?"
"Nothing," Brian said. "He just . . . told me playtime was over. No big thing. I'm surprised it went on this long." He sighed as the alcohol in the champagne he'd just consumed hit his system. It was a nice additional layer to the buzz he'd started up in his suite.
Michael made his voice low, comforting. "Are you sure it's over?"
Brian nodded once. "Vince is done," he said. "And Vince wears the pants."
"Really?" Michael said. "That's so NOT what I would have thought. I mean, I just met them, but . . . Stuart just seems so much more bossy."
Brian smiled a little as he watched his friend's expression when he mentioned Stuart. "You hate his guts, don't you?"
"I . . ." Michael fidgeted, clearly not wanting to disparage Brian's other friend. "I just . . . we didn't start off on the right foot."
"What did he do?" Brian said, the smile spreading into a little laugh. "Do I have to go kick his ass?"
"No," Michael hedged. "Never mind. I guess I just don't get his European sense of humor or something. He apologized, so it's over, anyway."
"He did something worthy of an apology?" Brian was intrigued then, more by the fact that Stuart actually GAVE that apology than by the fact that he owed one. He sat forward and lifted Michael's chin on the end of his finger. "You have to tell me now."
"I don't want to," Michael said plainly. "Just forget it. Like I said, it's over."
"Mikey . . ." Brian teased, batting his lashes in that way that always made Michael give in.
Rolling his eyes reluctantly, Michael looked away for a moment, his brow wrinkling with angst. "Brian, never mind, okay? Can we please just drop it?"
A man swaggered up to them behind Michael, spotting Brian and apparently recognizing him as the guest of honor. He was platinum blond and good looking in a hard-boiled way with icy blue eyes and pale brows. His jaw was wide and square and he looked very European.
"Oi," he said sharply, interrupting them and clearly not giving a shit. "You're the one put this campaign together, yeah? You're Kinney?" His accent sounded to Brian like a mixture of Berlin and London.
"That's right," Brian said, all business. He stood up and extended his hand to the other man. "Brian Kinney. And you are?"
"Kurtz," the man said almost rudely. "Helmut Kurtz. I'm with Thrive's Paris branch." He shook Brian's hand with a fierce grip, letting go quickly as though the contact repulsed him. "It's a brilliant campaign," he almost sneered. He barely made eye contact with Brian the whole time he spoke and seemed to want to get the interaction over with as soon as possible. His manner indicated the whole encounter was an unsavory obligation.
"Well, thanks a lot," Brian said congenially, wondering what was up with this guy. "I appreciate your kind remarks, Mr. Kurtz."
"Mm," Kurtz grunted. A deep knit appeared in his brow. "Burton's likely to make you an offer now. He's always hiring your sort. You lot are nothing if not creative. Seems to be in the blood."
"You mean, Americans?" Brian said, knowing full well what the obnoxious little man meant.
Kurtz's cold eyes flashed on Brian's momentarily but then flitted away. "I mean poofs. Burton hired that shit-stabbin' Stuart Jones in Manchester and he's the brightest light in the company right now. It's always the way. Poofs and women everywhere taking all the best jobs away from--"
Without even thinking about it, Brian punched him. His fist connected with Kurtz's very square jaw with a solid thud, knocking the last part of his sentence right out of him in a long slurry shout of surprise. Kurtz went reeling backward, bumping into the wall above the bench. His knees whacked against the bench itself and he went sprawling onto his back. Brian was after him in a flash, standing over him menacingly. He used the full impact of his considerable height. His breath drew in and out quickly and he felt the anger pumping adrenaline into his veins.
Kurtz was on his feet instantly and he charged Brian, growling and cursing in German. He was at least a head shorter than the American but he was fast and he managed to get in a hard blow to Brian's belly before he punched Kurtz's face again. Brian coughed and bent over, having been caught off guard by the hit to his diaphragm. He struggled to get his breath back and then he heard Michael rushing up beside him.
Kurtz came back once again, lunging forward with his fist balled, ready to clock Brian in the chin while he was doubled over. Brian saw him advancing and braced himself for the impact, but it never came. Michael swung at Kurtz's face twice, the first hit clipping his left ear and the next bringing his jaw back around hard. Blood spilled out of the blond man's mouth and he spat a dark red mouthful of it onto the smooth concrete floor of the terrace.
Brian was upright by then and people had started to gather around the scuffle. Kurtz rushed forward again and Brian held Michael back so he wouldn't get in the way of the next punch Brian had in store for his attacker. It was a deep reaching wallop that came from the back and when his fist struck Kurtz's face that last time, the man went down and stayed there.
Brian stared at him for a second, hearing nothing but the thunder of his heart in his ears. He tasted blood in his mouth and spat but the saliva was only slightly pink. He coughed again and his gut hurt, but he didn't feel like he'd been damaged internally. As he stood there looking down at the unconscious Kurtz, the sounds around him began to layer in and become audible. The first thing he heard was Kate's voice.
"Oh my GOD, BRIAN!" She rushed forward and held his face in her hands, looking at him with her green eyes wide. "Christ, are you okay?! What the hell happened here?!"
Brian blinked, looking at Michael. "Did he hit you?" he asked.
"No," Michael said, shaking his hands and rubbing the knuckles. "I hit HIM, believe it or not." He laughed in a quiet amazement. "I'm not sure I believe it! Shit, that hurts."
Kate looked down at Kurtz and then up at Michael and then finally back to Brian. Most of the people from inside the party had converged on the narrow terrace to get a better look at the action and from the center of the throng Vince wiggled free. He excused himself as he shouldered passed two older women who were staring at the prone Kurtz in horror. His face was a mess of blood and saliva and he was out like a light.
"Jesus, Brian! Are you all right?" Vince said, stepping up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need a doctor?"
"No, I'm okay," Brian said. "He got me once in the gut but I'm all right." He held up his right hand and wiggled the fingers gingerly. The ring finger gave him a painful twinge and he frowned. "Hmm. Might need some ice for that."
"I'm sure there's a physician on staff here," Kate said. "Let's get you up to your room and I'll call the desk about it. Michael, you're not hurt, are you?"
"No," he said. "I don't think so. My hand's just sore." He put his arm around Brian's shoulders and he and Kate lead him forward toward the crowd. Vince made a path for them, politely asking people to step back as they walked through.
Brian heard someone speaking in a frantic tone to one of the waiters about getting an ambulance for the man on the terrace and the sound of it made him smile to himself. It made him feel vindicated that the homophobic bastard Kurtz needed medical attention. He took a deep breath and winced a little from the tender pain in his belly, but he could tell it was only muscular. He was bruised, but not broken.
Following behind Vince and making his way out to the elevators, Brian couldn't help looking around and wondering where the fair Stuart had gone. In light of their recent conversation, he didn't think it was the best time to ask.
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Stuart:
He had been the only person who didn't rush out to the terrace to investigate the commotion. He stayed where he was by the piano as Kate, Michael and Vince all ran outside. First he saw Kurtz flailing his arms and reeling backward with blood running from his mouth and then he saw Brian advancing toward him. For whatever reason, he hadn't felt concerned or even interested in the reasons for the fight. All he wanted to do was be alone. Turning on his heel, he walked against the surging crowd toward the lobby. Stuart had had enough drama for one night.
He got up to the room and closed the door behind him, incredibly thankful for the sudden, all-encompassing silence. Leaning against the door, he closed his eyes and sighed. He stayed like that for a long time.
The knock on the door startled him and he opened his eyes wide, his heart picking up speed in his chest. For a moment, he considered not answering, but then he shook his head and opened the door.
Richard stood in the hall with his hands spread and his brow raised inquisitively. "Uh, hi," he said. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Stuart said, curiously. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I . . ." Richard sighed, looking confused. "I got downstairs just in time to see all the Pandemonium from the fight and you were nowhere to be found so I guess I thought . . . it was you who . . ." He smiled and shook his head. "Obviously not."
Stuart laughed. "You thought I started the fight?"
"Well, Kate said there was a guy coming to this function that you'd had an altercation with a few years ago. I don't know, I was jumping to conclusions obviously. I can see that you're fine."
"Yeah," he said. "I appreciate you looking in on me, though. It was actually Brian who got into the fight. But it was the same bloke I fought with--this bastard Kurtz who works in our Paris office. I guess he said something that pissed Brian off just as badly as me two years ago. He's a misogynistic, homophobic cunt. Likes to toss around insults and slurs."
"Lovely," Richard said. "I'm surprised Burton hasn't fired him."
"This will likely do the trick." Stuart offered a tired smile. "Richard, do you want a drink? I just came up because I . . . I'm not feeling up to being down there--in the middle of everything goin' on."
"I should really go find my wife," Richard said. "Last I saw she was wrangling the front desk to call an ambulance for that guy, Kurtz. She's always in the middle of everything goin' on, no matter where it occurs." He smiled sweetly with a slight glint of concern in his eyes. "Do you need anything, Stuart? You don't really look all that well."
"Yeah, I know," he said. "I think I just ate something funny. I'm fine, though. Really. Thanks again for looking in."
"Okay," Richard hedged. "Well, we'll see you later, then?"
"Yeah. See ya."
Richard nodded and went down the hall toward the lifts.
Stuart shut the door and walked over to the mini bar where he took out a bottle of scotch. He poured himself a drink and brought his glass and the bottle to the settee. Flopping down, he proceeded to knock back three shots of the sharp brown liquor in rapid succession, then he sighed and laid his head back on the cushion. He knew the mixture of scotch and champagne in his otherwise empty stomach would likely make him ill, but he didn't care. Stuart just wanted to be drunk.
More than anything, he wanted to feel nothing.
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Vince:
Brian laid on the bed in his suite curled in a slight fetal position with his hands protecting his injured torso. Vince could feel his eyes on him as he moved around near the mini bar stuffing ice cubes into a handtowel to put on Brian's swollen fingers. Michael was on the phone in the other room calling the front desk and asking to have the hotel doctor sent up. They could hear him explaining the situation as calmly as possible, but his voice wavered nonetheless.
Vince brought the ice over to the bed and sat down. "Come on, then. Put this on your hand."
Brian rolled onto his back gingerly and laid his hands out on his flat belly. Vince set the towel filled with ice on the back of Brian's reddest knuckles, holding it carefully so as not to hurt him.
"Thanks," Brian said softly. He took the towel and pressed it into his hand, wincing slightly.
"How's your belly?" Vince asked.
"Sore, but I'm okay. He just knocked the wind outta me." Brian looked at Vince soulfully with his pretty hazel eyes imploring. They could still hear Michael talking on the phone in the other room, his voice even but tinged with barely masked panic. "So, your decision is final, I'm guessing," Brian asked.
Vince offered a sad, resigned smile. "Yeah." He looked at Brian closely, intimately and lowered his voice to a near whisper. "It's not easy to do, Brian," he said seriously. "I mean . . . just so you know. I didn't come to the decision lightly."
The American's handsome face relaxed into a tiny smile. "I guess that helps."
Vince was about to say that he would miss their interplay very much when Michael walked into the room.
"The hotel doctor is coming up in twenty minutes," he reported, sitting on the foot of the bed and looking at his friend with worried eyes. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine, Mikey. I really don't need the doctor."
"It's just a precaution," Michael said. "What if you have internal bleeding or something? You could die, Brian."
"I'm not going to die," he said calmly. "At least not from some dumbass fist fight. Asshole fought like a chick, anyway."
Vince chuckled at Brian's bravado. It made him think of Stuart and it was then that he realized his lover had been missing during all the fuss. Turning to Michael, he asked "did you see Stuart anywhere?"
"No," Michael shook his head. "I haven't seen him since all this happened. Maybe he's still downstairs."
"Yeah, maybe." Vince stood up, gently carding his fingers through Brian's incredibly soft hair. "You all right, then?"
"Fine." Brian held his gaze intently for a long moment. "I guess I'll see you around."
"Yeah," Vince said. Once again, he touched Brian's feathery hair with his fingertips then he looked back at Michael. "If we don't see you later, it was nice to meet you."
"Same here." Michael extended his hand and Vince shook his very carefully, making sure not to squeeze the tender knuckles too hard.
"Look after him, yeah?" Vince said.
"I sort of can't help it," Michael said, rolling his eyes. "It's a compulsion with me."
Vince started out the bedroom door just as Kate and Richard walked in from the main room. Kate was a bit pale and slightly out of breath and she reached for Vince's hands as they stepped into the bedroom.
"The ambulance just came for Kurtz," she said, turning to Brian on the bed. "He's still unconscious, Bri. If he doesn't wake up soon . . ."
"I just knocked him out," he said, glancing down at Michael. "Well, WE knocked him out. He'll come around."
"Just what we need," Michael groaned. "To be thrown in jail in a foreign country for killing a psycho local."
Brian laughed and then winced from the pressure it put on his tender belly. "I'm sure everything will be fine," he said. "Even though that fucker deserves a lot worse than he got."
Kate squeezed Vince's hands then walked over to sit on the bed. "Your temper is going to get YOU killed one day, Bri," she said. "I swear to God." Sighing, Kate laid down beside her friend, gently pulling him toward her until he rested his head on her chest.
"I just saw Stuart," Richard told Vince.
"Oh?" he said with mild surprise. "Where was he?"
"In your room. He doesn't look very good, actually. He said he wasn't feeling well."
"Right," Vince said, assuming he knew just what was ailing his fianc. "Well, thanks. I was wondering where he'd got to. I'll just . . ." He started for the door once again but he couldn't help one last glance back at Brian, knowing he'd be looking, too. "I'm gonna go. You take care, all right?" he said into those haunting green-hazel eyes.
"You, too," Brian said, speaking softly as though they were alone in the room. "Have a great time Saturday. And in Greece. Try to remember as much of it as you can."
Kate looked down at him with a teasing smile. "What's this? Sentimentality from our Brian Kinney? Damn, that fight must have really jarred your brain. It's a good thing you sent for that doctor, Mike."
He just rolled his eyes and gave Vince one more intimate smile before he turned to leave the suite.
**
Suite 509 was quiet as a church when Vince let himself in. He could smell Stuart's aftershave in the air and feel his presence, but there was no sound at all. Walking into the sitting room, Vince's searching gaze found its prize immediately. Stuart was sprawled on the settee, a half-finished glass of scotch dangling from his beautiful fingers.
Vince crossed the silent room slowly, taking a seat on the arm of the settee above Stuart's head. The brunette had removed his suit coat, shoes, belt and tie and his trousers were unbuttoned and half- unzipped. His shirttails were untucked showing a tiny, alluring bit of his taut, browned belly underneath.
"You disappeared," Vince said, his voice low in the quiet room. The sounds of the traffic out on the street were faint and muffled by the closed windows and there seemed to be no one else on the fifth floor other than them. "I wondered where you'd gone." He reached out and gently stroked the silky curls on top of Stuart's head.
"I had to get out of there," Stuart replied, his voice barely audible. He raised the glass to his lips and emptied it. "Is Kurtz dead?"
"No," Vince said. "He was still unconscious when the ambulance took him, though."
"Good. Maybe he'll have a brain hemorrhage and pop his fucking clogs. I hate that bastard. If I'd have known he was still breathing, I would have gone out and finished the job for Brian. Stomped his fucking grey matter out all over that pretty terrace or something."
"Blimey," Vince said. "Is all this anger really about that man Kurtz?"
Stuart said nothing. He just sat there staring unseeing at the closed curtains in front of him.
"I'm assuming Brian's outburst was a bit misdirected, as well," Vince continued. "For all we know, Kurtz did nothing more than ask him the time. Brian was just looking for an outlet."
Stuart remained silent but his brow furrowed deeply. He reached for the nearly empty bottle of scotch but Vince stopped him.
"Would you do me a favor and not have another?"
Stuart regarded him with a mixture of fatigue, irritation and sadness, all of which combined into a reluctant surrender. He let Vince take the bottle and the empty glass away from him.
"It's just that I don't want you to be sick and hungover tomorrow," Vince said. "We've got so much to do. I need you to be on form for me." He set the bottle and glass on the floor beside the settee, then he leaned along the back of the cushion. Reaching down, he slipped his fingertips under Stuart's open shirttails and softly stroked his inviting naked belly. Once again noting his half-undone fly, Vince bent down to whisper to his lover. "Were you having a wank?"
Stuart shook his head slowly.
Vince eased his fingers forward, down under the fabric of Stuart's trousers until he touched the soft cotton of his underwear. "Your trousers are undone."
"They were bothering me," Stuart replied. His head rolled gently to the side and rested against Vince's shoulder. His thighs parted slightly and he sighed into the soft caresses.
Placing a feathery kiss against Stuart's temple, Vince continued to whisper as his fingers played along the outline of Stuart's cock through his shorts. "Brian's fine, by the way. Since you didn't even ask. The hotel doctor is coming up to look him over just to be safe."
"I figured you'd tell me if he was injured," Stuart said, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence. He stroked the hairs on Vince's hand and wrist, lifting his hips up into the touch. "Mmm . . . that feels so nice . . . I love it when you touch me soft like that . . ."
Vince's eye caught the glint of Brian's gold bracelet on Stuart's wrist and he frowned slightly. Taking his hand out of his lover's pants, he stood up and walked around the settee so he could sit on the cushion beside Stuart. "Come here," he said, holding Stuart's wrist in both his hands. The clasp came undone with ease and the heavy gold chain fell into Vince's open palm. There was a soft clacking sound as the links piled up neatly.
"I love that bracelet," Stuart murmured.
"I know you do." Vince slipped the bracelet into his pocket then he took off his brown suit coat, laying it over the back of the settee. Holding out both his wrists, he looked in Stuart's eyes and waited for him to take off Brian's cufflinks.
"What's this, an exorcism by jewelry?" Stuart smirked as he reached for Vince's left wrist and carefully removed the small bit of delicately carved pewter. Once it was free, he moved to the right wrist and took that one off, as well.
Vince held out his hand for the baubles and Stuart dropped them into his lover's palm. Placing them into the same pocket with the bracelet, Vince sighed and laced his fingers through Stuart's gently, holding on.
Frowning at the coat pocket where the jewelry was put away, Stuart said "now what? Do we kill a chicken over it or something?"
Vince only smiled. "You all right, then?"
"Mm."
"You haven't eaten dinner."
"Neither have you."
Vince got up and went to the desk by the window where the hotel directories were stored. He got out the room service menu and scanned the list of dinner entrees. Picking up the phone, he looked over at Stuart who was still sprawled out on the settee. "Do you fancy a sandwich or pasta? Anything special or do you want me to just pick something?"
"You pick," he said despondently. "I don't care. I'll eat anything." He let his head back on the cushion and closed his eyes.
Vince dialed the code for room service and ordered fettuccini Alfredo and a chicken breast sandwich with salad on the side. To that, he added a slice of chocolate cake with whipped cream and a dish of sliced melon. After placing the order, he walked back over to the settee and sat down beside Stuart.
"Don't fall asleep, now. Food's coming."
Stuart turned his head against the cushion and looked at Vince with his dark blue eyes pensive and serious. Something about the expression was very unsettling.
"What is it, luv?" He moved closer so he could touch Stuart's belly again, gently moving aside the shirttails to reveal the soft, warm skin underneath.
Stuart kept looking at him for a long time, his expression becoming more and more distressed. Vince thought his lover might cry again and the idea of that disturbed him deeply. He couldn't stand seeing Stuart cry. Vince put a soft kiss on his cheek, watching Stuart's face closely.
"Tell me . . . What?"
"Your timing was perfect, Vince," he said finally, his voice sounding slightly squeezed. "If you'd waited one day longer, it would have been too late. Maybe even one hour longer." Stuart let out a long, ragged sigh. "If I'd had him one more time . . . that would have been it."
Vince looked down, unable to maintain eye contact. He'd known full well how attached Stuart was becoming to Brian--and vice versa. It was obvious in the way their eyes flashed when they looked at each other. They were so playful and intimate that it was clear they had deeper feelings for one another than either of them realized. Vince had hoped to keep things on a more superficial, sensual level for a longer period of time, but all of them had been surprised by the wave of emotions present between the two seemingly LESS emotional members of their threesome.
Stuart was looking at him, watching his face and searching the expression there. "Does that scare you as much as it does me?" he asked after a while.
Vince sighed and shook his head. "Luv, I don't know to say about that. I . . . it was my idea to even start this up with Brian. I feel like anything that happened as a result of it is mostly my fault. If I'd lost you to him . . . I reckon I would have had it coming."
Stuart just looked at him, his eyes round and wondering. "You think what happened with Brian was YOUR fault? You can't be serious."
"I invited him that first time," Vince said. "The very first threesome, the thing that started it all, was MY plan."
"Vince," Stuart said seriously, turning his body toward his lover on the settee. "My interest in Brian began weeks before that. It was one morning in Kate's office when she was in Manchester. I came in to get her for lunch and she had Brian on the speakerphone. That was first time we met, technically. The first time I heard his voice and . . . I could just . . . tell. I knew I would have him."
Vince's brow knit and he pursed his lips. "You never told me that you spoke to him before you met in New York."
"It was just an introduction over a squawk box. I didn't speak to him privately or anything. I'm just saying that I KNEW, is all. I had a feeling about him and once it was in place . . . there was no denying it. It was sort of . . . chemical."
Vince nodded, resolutely. "Right. Well, then we're both at fault."
They looked at each other for a long time in the dimly lit sitting room, both their eyes reflecting the faint light from the lamp on the corner table. Vince didn't have to guess what Stuart was thinking. He could tell. They were both thinking it. The knowledge that they had let Brian Kinney get far too close to their lives was palpable between them. They both knew they were damned lucky to have come out of it with their relationship intact.
"I'm sorry," Stuart said, whispering. "I'm sorry for my part in all of it. For . . . needing a risk of that caliber."
"You can't help what you need, Stuart," Vince said. "I don't want you to apologize for that. I can't help what I need, either." He looked down again, gently playing with Stuart's long, elegant fingers. "I can't say that I would have done anything differently . . . if I had it to do again. I reckon I feel guilty for enjoying it. For enjoying him."
"Don't, for fuck's sake. He was there to be enjoyed. He's lovely." Stuart smiled, resting his head against the cushion again. "Listen, the point is . . . once again, you were right. Your instinct is always spot on, Vince. I mean . . . I know I'm acting all fucking depressed and bitchy about it, but . . . you were right. And I'm glad you pulled the plug when you did. `Cos I never would have pulled it at all."
Vince smiled sadly. "Yeah. I know." He brought Stuart's fingers to his lips and kissed them softly. "But I don't want you to think it was easy for me, all right? I just explained all this to him, in fact. It was bloody hard for me to send him packin'. Especially after being here with him and having all that happen yesterday . . ."
Stuart leaned over and touched his lips to Vince's once, then again. Brushing their noses together, he softly nipped Vince's bottom lip, making him shiver. "Can we call this whole thing even, then? Done and balanced?" he whispered.
"I wasn't keeping score, Stuart. I just . . ." Vince let himself be kissed again, sighing into it and closing his eyes. The kiss seemed to be a kiss goodbye to that chapter of their lives and Vince silently welcomed the transition. Even if he knew they would both miss their Hurricane Brian horribly, he knew for certain that letting him go was the right thing to do.
"So, why can't I get drunk tonight again?" Stuart said, smiling. "What do you have for me to do tomorrow that's so bloody important?"
"We have to fly home," Vince said. "And then we have all that stuff tomorrow afternoon and evening. Don't tell me you don't remember, Stuart. The wedding? Does that ring a bell?"
Stuart tilted his head, indicating he had no idea what Vince was on about.
Sighing, he stood up and went into the bedroom to retrieve his leather bound organizer that contained all his notes and plans for the wedding. He sat on the settee with the planner open in his lap and rifled through the well-fingered pages until he came to the one marked with Thursday's date. "At 3:30 we have our final meeting with the caterer. Jeni is coming with some samples for you to try, since I've already tried everything. There were a few things I wasn't sure about, so she's bringing them for you to taste. And then at 5:00 we have the rehearsal with Sister Anne at your parents house. We have to be on time for that since the Sister is doing another wedding tomorrow evening. Five o'clock is the only time she could fit us in and we'll only have about forty-five minutes to get everything in place. And then we--"
Stuart tipped forward on the settee and dropped his head into Vince's lap, groaning. "Christ, you are MAD with this, aren't you?" he said wearily.
"There's more," Vince said, grinning playfully down at his lover. "I'm only up to five o'clock, Stuart. We've got plans all the way through to midnight tomorrow."
"Gaaaaawwwdddddd!!!!" He laid on his back with his head in Vince's lap, covering his eyes with his hands. "And after all that, you're going to leave me alone the entire next day and night?"
Vince sighed. "You said it would be all right."
"I SAID I would agree to it if it was that important to you. I never said it was all right!"
"Well, you can't re-neg now. I already made plans for you on Friday." He turned back to his planner and flipped over to the next page in Thursday's schedule. "After the rehearsal, your mum is having dinner for us with a few of our friends that flew in for the ceremony. That should be nice," he said. "Reb and Andie will be there--you remember that lovely American woman and her niece from the hotel in Scotland?"
"What plans?" Stuart said, fixating on the part of the last exchange that bothered him the most. "What the fuck do you mean you made plans for me already on Friday?"
Vince sighed. "Don't be difficult."
"I'm NOT! I just want to know what you've planned for me. I might not want to do it!"
"You'll want to," Vince said. "I've arranged to have Kate come and get you in the morning and take you out to play all day long. Romey, Hazel and Lisa will be at the flat decorating for the party all day Friday. You won't want to be underfoot there--God knows you're not going to help them. And then Saturday, Jeni and her staff are coming `round at 11:00 to start cooking and setting up for the reception."
Stuart sat up, glaring at his lover irritably. "Wait, wait! I won't even have any privacy at home AND you'll be gone? You never discussed any of this with me, Vince! Where am I supposed to get ready for the ceremony, in the fuckin' carport??!"
Keeping his voice calm and even, Vince smiled soothingly. "You knew all these things would be taking place, Stuart. We've been talking about it for months. Let's go through it slowly. We've got all the rehearsal stuff tomorrow evening after the meeting with the caterer. Mum and the lesbians are going to decorate on Friday for the reception. You knew all that, right?"
Stuart heaved a sigh. "Yes. I knew that."
"Okay. And you also knew the caterer would be at the flat all day Saturday getting ready for the party. We're coming back to ours right after the ceremony so they have to have everything ready by 6:00. We're having a full dinner for fifty people, luv. Jeni and her staff have a lot to do."
Stuart rolled his eyes. "I NEED another drink," he moaned.
Sighing, Vince relented, knowing his lover was shifting into overwhelm. "Fine. Have another drink, then. Just promise me you'll eat when the food comes."
"I promise." Stuart reached around the end of the settee and picked up the bottle and his glass from where Vince had left them. He poured another measure of scotch and drank it down in one gulp. Nodding to the planner open in Vince's lap, he said "right. What else is in there that's going to drive me insane?"
Smiling patiently, Vince continued. "Okay, tomorrow night your mum is doing a dinner for us and some of the people who flew in. There'll be Kate and Richard, Reb and Andie, the lesbians, my father and Judith and Adrian. And Hazel and Bernie. And your sister and the boys. And your dad, of course."
"Sounds like a fucking horror story waiting to happen," Stuart said. "What's my mother cooking? Did you plan that, too?"
"Are you being a shit?" Vinced teased. "Do I need to spank you?"
Stuart chuckled boyishly, pouring another measure of whiskey. That time, he set the nearly empty bottle down on the floor and settled back against he cushion. He actually seemed ready to listen, even if he would likely crack wise every now and then. Vince figured he'd best take what he could get of his lover's attention and he forged on with the schedule.
"Right, then after dinner you and I have to pack for Greece. We're leaving the day after the wedding, you know."
Stuart nodded slowly. "Yeah . . ." he said. "Greece. Now THAT, I'm looking forward to." He looked up at the ceiling and his eyes glazed over happily. "Sleeping late, long walks on the beach, shaggin' in the sunshine, getting tan all over without ever comin' near a sunbed."
Vince laughed softly while he watched Stuart enjoy his imaginings.
"I can't wait for that . . . just lying about . . . resting and fucking and eating and drinking." He looked over at Vince with his dark blue eyes shining. "We're not going to want to come back."
"That's the point, innit?" Vince said. "A honeymoon is meant to be idyllic. Perfect. Like a wish for the way you want to live your lives together."
Stuart kept his eyes on Vince's for a long time and then he smiled sweetly. "Have you always been such a slushy romantic?"
Lowering his chin and batting his eyes, Vince said "only since I met you. All this slushiness seemed to happen overnight."
"When you were fourteen?"
"Yeah," Vince said. "Must have been the poetry."
Scooting over to rest his head in Vince's lap again, Stuart nuzzled his lover's belly through his shirt. "There are no words for how sad you are."
Petting those lovely black curls, Vince breathed a soft laugh. "Now, as far as you getting ready on Saturday. You can either lock yourself in the bedroom for some privacy from the caterers or . . ."
Stuart scowled up at him, his drink resting on his partially exposed belly. "Or, what?"
"You could get ready at Hazel's."
"I thought you didn't want to see me before the ceremony?"
"I won't," Vince said. "I won't be there on Saturday. I have . . . something to do before the ceremony."
Stuart squinted suspiciously. "I'm assuming you're not telling me what that is."
"You assume correctly." Vince grinned, gently turning one of those satiny black locks around his index finger. "It's a surprise for you for our wedding night."
"Hmm," Stuart said. "Is it a good surprise?"
"Of course it is, don't be daft. So, you're free to get ready in my old room at Hazel's on Saturday. If you like."
"Where are you getting ready?"
"Now, if I tell you that, it will give away the surprise." Vince winked, smoothing the long curls away from the brunette's forehead.
Stuart groaned. "Fine. Just don't be late, or I'll have to kill you."
Vince chuckled, closing the planner and setting on the floor. He figured he would forego any more talk of the schedule until after Stuart had something to eat. After all, everything that needed to be planned already was. Down to a `t'.
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