Slipping Below the Waterline

Credit: Title is taken from the wonderful Morrissey song "I'm Not Sorry."

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of "And Who Do You Think I Am." You will need to read that one first.  Thanks to the fabulous Philflam for betaing.

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Brian sat at the table and tried to pretend his hands weren't shaking as he lit a cigarette. He hoped to God his little power play had worked because he meant what he said. If Justin didn't come back with him today, it was over. He wouldn't stand by and watch Justin sell his soul piece by piece not even from the other side of the country. But he'd played it all wrong. He'd let too much show especially at the end. He'd sounded more desperate than commanding. Brian hoped Justin hadn't noticed.

He shouldn't even be here. It was all Debbie's fault or maybe Michael's. Once he and Justin had stopped being whatever the hell they were, it was understood that if Justin needed something or had a problem he could come to Brian. It would always be that way. But Justin had to come to Brian; he wouldn't come to Justin. Yet, here he was.

It was definitely Michael's fault. After all he was the one who needed a gay superhero, and nobody would be here if it wasn't for Rage. When Justin finished his work on Rage, Brett offered him another job. By the time it was clear that while not a flop, Rage wasn't a franchise material, Justin was too enmeshed in L.A. to leave. He and Justin embarked on completely separate lives connected only by Michael who visited Justin occasionally to work on Rage the comic book. It was his last visit that prompted Brian's own trip.

Last month he'd met Michael for breakfast his first morning back from L.A. After Debbie half smothered him to death and swore he'd lost ten pounds in the week he'd been gone, she started on Michael.

"Hunter's still pretty upset you wouldn't take him with you. He would have enjoyed it."

"He had school, Ma. We've been over this."

"You should let him go out for Spring Break. He could stay with Sunshine meet some cute girls or guys whatever he's after that week," Debbie laughed.

"No way, he'd get in too much trouble."

"Let the boy have some fun. Justin will take care of him. You worry too much."

Brian had almost choked on his coffee at the idea of Debbie thinking Michael was overprotective. If she had her way, she would be stopping by every night to tuck Michael in. But something in Michael's voice made him think this conversation was not a good idea so he decided to distract Debbie. "Hey Mikey, did you bring those pictures for your Mom?" Justin always sent Debbie picture of celebrities he'd met, and Michael would do the same while he was there.

Michael threw him a grateful look while pulling out a pack of photos. "Look at this one Ma. Can you believe how short he is in person?"

Brian only half listened as they gushed over the pictures. He noticed when there was a sudden silence followed by Debbie's "What the fuck is this?"

From the look on Michael's face, Brian expected to see a picture of him in the middle of an orgy. "Jesus Mikey didn't you remember to take the sex pictures out?" But when he looked down all he saw was a picture of Justin.

"How long as this been going on and why didn't you tell me?"

He saw Michael shift nervously. "It's just a picture of Justin at a party. He's not doing drugs or anything."

"He's too thin. Look at this," Debbie was flapping the picture in front of Michael's face.

"He lives in California, Deb. Thin is always in."

Debbie turned to him one finger dangerously close to his eye. "You stay the fuck out of this unless you're planning on getting off your ass and doing something about it."

Brian held out his hands in surrender and left while he still could.  But with Debbie being Debbie, it didn't end there. For the next few weeks, every time he saw her she took the damn picture out. She didn't say anything just slapped on the table next to his coffee cup. Finally he'd had it. "What do you want me to do with this?" he asked shoving it back at her.

"I want you to fucking look at it and see what I see. I want you to look at him and see how lost he is."

Brian was silent for a while. So far he'd managed to avoid really looking at the picture, but once he did he knew what Debbie was saying. And he knew looking at the picture was a huge mistake. "And so what if I do? Justin's a big boy now. If he needs help, he knows where to get it. I think we're past `You fucked him so he's your responsibility.' Don't you."

"Maybe, but we're not past you're fucking in love with him so he's still your responsibility. And don't even try to deny it. You might as well have taken out a fucking billboard the way you looked at the kid. So how about you do some of the fucking work this time and make sure he knows where he can go."

Knowing arguing was useless, he'd handed the picture back to her and asked for his check.

Before he left, Debbie stopped him and slipped the picture in his coat pocket. "Keep this one. I have a copy." Brian had meant to yell at her, but ended up kissing her on the cheek instead.

After a day spent staring at the picture, just like Debbie hoped, Brian ended up at Michael's store. "Explain this to me Mikey. What does it mean?" he'd asked sliding the picture across the counter.

"It's not what you think. He's not doing drugs or drinking too much. And he's not suicidal or anything. It's just there's a lot of pressure on him right now." Michael fidgeted with some comic books and looked away as he spoke.

"Pressure? What the fuck does that mean?"

Michael sighed folding the edges of the picture back and forth in his fingers. "It's just Rage wasn't a big hit, you know. But Brett knows how to play the game, how to still come out of it looking good. He kind of made a big deal out of Justin's story. About how he came back from the whole hand thing and drew his own bashing. Gay sex might not be big in Hollywood, but they love stories about `the price of coming out' I think is how Brett put it. So he takes Justin with him when he makes the rounds, and Justin's the one they all want to talk to. They ask him about the bashing all the time. I think it wears on him."

Brian had stared at Michael unable to think of a single thing to say. He finally turned around and walked out. He'd headed straight for Woody's and gotten very, very drunk. Brian wasn't surprised when Michael eventually showed up to take him home. He didn't say anything about Justin, but Brian couldn't get his words out of his head. The price of coming out wasn't something any of them needed to be reminded of, especially Justin. Two weeks later, he'd been on a plane.

Brian was on his fifth cigarette when Justin walked in carrying a large duffle bag. "I'm ready. Let's go," was all he said.

Brian tried to ignore the relief that coursed through him when he realized he wouldn't have to kidnap Justin after all. No matter what he told Justin or himself, there had been no way he was walking out of there alone. "So what is your final destination?" he asked casually. At Justin's raised eyebrow he continued, "In case I need to get you another ticket."

"I'm staying in Pittsburgh."

"For me?" Brian asked just to see what reaction he would get.

"Don't fucking flatter yourself, asshole. I'm going for me," Justin laughed. "And I do have other family in Pittsburgh in case that's something else that slipped your drug addled mind."

As soon as he heard Justin laugh and saw him really smile, Brian knew things were going to work out. "That's true; there's your mom, Debbie, Daphne."

"But they're not here. You are. What does that mean, you think?"

"I had the most frequent flyer miles," Brian kept his tone deliberately flip. But when Justin didn't bite, he gave him the best answer he could. "Maybe I had the most at stake."

"Maybe." Justin shifted and adjusted the strap on his shoulder. "Why is my stuff still at the loft?"

Fuck, Brian should have known Justin would catch that. He shrugged and concentrated on opening and closing the lighter he still held. "It wasn't in the way. Sort of seemed like it belonged there."

"Is it that easy Brian? Is that what you're offering?" Justin sounded a little unsure, but after a moment he continued. "Do I still belong there?"

He hoped Justin wouldn't actually ask the question. Things like that used to be understood, but considering how much time had passed, he imagined it was impossible to avoid. Brian made sure to look at Justin when he answered. "You do if you want to. Look Justin, the geography changed that was all, at least for me. If it's different for you, well, there's no strings attached to coming back with me.  Just like I always told you, it's your call where you want to be."  Brian imagined there was a very small part of him somewhere that still meant that. He couldn't find that part of himself, but it still sounded good.

"There's only one place I've ever really wanted to be. I just got a little sidetracked. I guess it was your turn to remind me."

"Debbie would be proud. Let's go before we miss our flight." Brian couldn't help smiling now that he knew he'd done the right thing. "You took too God damn long packing. Now we can't fuck."

"We have at least twenty minutes in the car. I still give great head in case you were wondering. If we have time, the bathroom stalls at LAX are pretty big. If not, I understand first class flight attendants are very discreet. Between fully reclining seats and decent bathrooms, we should have plenty of opportunities." Justin ticked each option off on his fingers and smirked at Brian.

Brian nodded and tried to keep from smiling even more. "That all sounds good, but how do you know we're flying first class?"

Justin laughed, "There is no way you would subject yourself to the indignities of coach even for me. You might be exposed to crying babies, strangers falling asleep and drooling on you, or worst of all hideously mismatched luggage."

"Still a smart ass I see." Brian couldn't resist a quick swat on his butt. "We do have a few minutes before we need to go so come here." Brian brushed Justin's hair back and framed his face with his hands before leaning down to kiss him. In that moment, he would swear they'd never been apart. Their mouths still fit, Justin still tasted the same, Brian still got hard as soon as Justin pulled his head down and pressed them closer together. He knew, coach seating aside, the indignities he had yet to suffer were worth it. He'd put up with Debbie's crowing and the boys teasing him about going after Justin just to have this.

"Fuck it, we'll get another flight," Justin said when he finally tore his mouth from Brian's.

"Fucking brilliant idea. I knew there was a reason I wanted you back." They were both laughing as they struggled to kiss, strip, and walk back to the bedroom at the same time. Once they made it, Brian pulled Justin onto the bed. "Now, I believe you were saying something about giving great head."

Two days, three messages from Debbie, and countless ones from Brett later, they finally boarded a plane for Pittsburgh.

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