To the Rhythm That Yearns

Author's Notes: Written for
Small Things Made Large at qaf_challenges Thank you to my wonderful beta noteverything for making this story work as well as it does. To the author of the drabble (xie_xie_xie )-thank you for writing such a fantastic drabble. I hope you like what I did with it. Title is taken from the U2 song “Moment of Surrender.”

 

*****

Brian stared at Justin, hearing his own words hanging in the air. No apologies, no regrets? He had plenty of the second, but couldn't choke out the first. So he walked out of the room.

Justin followed Brian onto the terrace. "It doesn't matter."

Brian didn't look at him. "Of course it matters."

His hair needs cutting, Justin thought, trailing his fingers over the nape of Brian's neck, his other hand touching his shoulder. And then he stopped.

Brian's hair. Slipping through his fingers, brown and soft, glints of silver. Ragged ends.

"Brian," he said, slowly. "Are you sick again?"



“Am I sick again?” Brian laughed harshly. “No, I’m not. It’d make things easier, wouldn’t it? Then I’m not an asshole; I’m just dying.”

Justin sucked in a breath, and Brian knew he was working to control his temper. “As bad as things have been, and they’ve been bad, I’ve yet to wish cancer on you.”

“You always were the better person, Sunshine.” The look on Justin’s face made him want to take the words back, but he couldn’t.

“Then what?” Justin asked quietly.

Brian felt Justin lean into him, felt his head resting against his back. He wanted to reach for him and walk away at the same time; instead, he just shrugged. There was no real answer. He couldn’t say he had a teenage son who was struggling, and he’d never let himself be enough of a dad to Gus for him to do much more than watch him flounder. He wouldn’t tell him how most of the time moving back and forth between Pittsburgh and New York gave him the best of both worlds, but sometimes all it did was remind him that while Kinnetik would never be big enough to exist solely in New York, Justin was successful enough that he didn’t need to stay in New York. The life he’d - no, they’d - worked so hard to build chafed right now. Justin knew all this, saying it out loud accomplished nothing.

“Look, if you need some time. . .”

That’s as far as he got before Brian turned around and pressed him against the door. “Don’t,” he said, cutting Justin off. “I have Michael and Ted and two offices full of people I pay to make life easier for me. I don’t need that from you.”

“Fine,” Justin huffed. “Then get your fucking act together because I’m tired of this shit.” With that he turned and walked back into their apartment. He left the door open, but Brian turned back to the skyline.



The business trip to Pittsburgh was legitimate and was nothing like running away. But he didn’t ask Justin to come with him, and Justin didn’t offer, even though they both knew he had the time. Three days of marathon meetings left Brian little time to think, and he welcomed the distraction. He terrified the art department, threatened two junior partners, and accused Ted and Cynthia of slacking, all while closing the deal on four crucial contracts. The insane pace left him invigorated and too busy to pick up the phone when Justin called.

The night before he headed back to New York, he managed to leave Kinntek before midnight and stopped at Woody’s. A game of pool led to an above average blowjob, and when he stepped out of the bathroom, still fastening his pants, he found both Michael and a fresh drink waiting for him. “Hey, Mikey.” They kissed before Brian sat down. “I thought we were meeting for breakfast in the morning.”

“We are, but Ted called and said you’d left early, and you weren’t at the loft so I figured you’d be here.”

“Carl’s rubbing off on you. Congratulations, Detective Novotny.” Brian downed his drink and gestured for another. “I assume you tracked me down for a reason.”

“I just thought it’d be nice to have a drink together while you were in town.” Michael smiled innocently, too innocently.

“Mikey, give it up.”

“Fine, what’s going on with you and Justin?”

“Just because I got my dick sucked by a talented and friendly stranger,” Brian smiled and nodded in the direction of the pool table. “It doesn’t mean Justin and I aren’t living happily in non-marital bliss.”

“I know that, Brian. Your and Justin’s non-arrangement arrangement works for you, and I wouldn’t dare suggest otherwise.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You tell me. All I know is that Ted is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and you really don’t want to know what Justin suggested for the next issue of Rage.”

Visions of a castrated Rage danced in Brian’s head, and he shuddered, “I guess not.”

“It’s not lesbian bed death is it?”

“Do I need to remind you that Justin and I aren’t lesbians?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Our sex life is just as active and inventive as ever. Just the other day I fucked him while. . .”

“Spare me the details.” Michael closed his eyes and held up his hand to stop Brian. “You aren’t having a midlife crisis are you? Because with the life you’ve led, a midlife crisis should involve finding Jesus and marrying Lindsay so Gus can have a “real” family.”

“Promise me you’d shoot me before you’d let that happen.”

“Pinkie swear,” Michael laughed. “What’s really going on?”

Brian shook his head slowly, “Nothing, Mikey. It’s just life.”

“Just life?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Michael looked at him sadly.

“I know,” Brian agreed as they both finished their drinks and called for another round.


The time away didn’t really change anything. Brian was still short tempered and restless, and he could tell Justin was running out of patience. For weeks they seemed to do nothing but circle each other; sex was rough and hurried, but it was better than their half-hearted conversations which always seemed to end in tense silences or slammed doors. But just when it seemed like things would never get better, they did. Justin received a commission from one of his favorite galleries at the same time Kinnetik was launching two if its most ambitious campaigns. Maybe it was nothing more than that they were both busy doing what they loved instead of thinking about what was going wrong, but slowly the tension began to fade. It was suddenly easier to laugh than shout, to touch instead of turning away.

One night in April, Brian returned home to find the apartment empty. A few drinks at one of the local bars sounded better than sitting alone in the dark, but he ended up at Justin’s studio instead. As he let himself in, he started to call for Justin, but instead stopped dead in his tracks after just a few steps.

“Jesus,” he breathed as he stared at the painting drying against the back wall.

Justin looked up from the canvas he was prepping and gave him a hopeful smile. “You like it?”

Normally Brian would tease him about seeking approval, remind him that Brian’s opinion didn’t matter, but that response felt wrong. It wasn’t a huge painting, at least not by Justin’s standards, but its impact was immense. At first glance it looked like the night sky or maybe space itself. Stars, planets, comets, all varying sizes and colors, seemed to take off in different directions, lighting the dark canvas, but the more you looked at it, the more you were drawn into the painting. And that’s when Brian began to sense its lack of center, began to feel like he was searching for something he couldn’t find, and it left him feeling lost.

Although Brian had a healthy ego, he knew most of Justin’s work wasn’t about him. Some of Justin’s darkest pieces had come when they were happiest. But there was no doubt as to what this painting was about. It was his most personal piece in years. “Are you going to show it?” he asked, instead of answering Justin’s question. All Justin needed to do was look at his face to see just how impressed he was.

“Yeah, but I’m not selling it.”

“Good,” Brian nodded. He would have bought it himself if he had to; it belonged to them. It almost hurt to look at, but there was a beauty in that pain, and Brian didn’t want to forget that. They’d earned every bit of that beauty, would earn it again. He finally looked away from the painting and walked toward Justin who met him and reached for his hand. “Are you done for tonight?”

“I think so.” Justin looked back at the canvas he’d been working on, then nodded.

Brian brushed a fleck of green paint from Justin’s cheek before kissing him. He meant for it to be a quick kiss, but Justin’s lips parted under his, and Brian pulled him closer. He dropped Justin’s hand and framed his face, stroking the slope of his cheekbones and over his temples as he licked his way into Justin’s mouth. Justin’s skin was smooth and warm under his fingers, and Brian continued to trace the lines of his face as they kissed. He could touch Justin like this forever, and when Justin’s hands slipped under his shirt, pressing warmly against his back, he knew Justin felt it too. Opening his mouth wider, Brian deepened the kiss, leaning into Justin until he stumbled backward against the wall.

Laughing, they broke the kiss, but didn’t let go of each other. Brian brushed his lips against the soft hair above Justin’s ear and mentally cursed the lack of furniture in the studio. “Ready to go home?”

Tightening his arms around Brian briefly, Justin nodded before letting go.

During the cab ride home, Justin rested his head on Brian’s shoulder. “I talked to Gus last night,” Brian began, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

Justin looked up. “Did you? What did he have to say?”

“Not much,” Brian laughed. He felt Justin smile against his neck and relaxed against him.

“I’m not surprised, but it’s still good.”

“I thought next month after your show, we could go up for a week.”

Justin squeezed his thigh, “I’d like that.”

When the taxi stopped, they were still talking and laughing. They walked into the building hand in hand, making plans together.

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