Author's Notes: This story was inspired by this wonderful graphic created by badbadpixie. Not only is she incredibly talented, but she is also very generous and kind. She made a personalized version of the graphic for me to use. Thank you!  And thank you to vl_redreign for doing a wonderful job betaing this story. Any remaining mistakes are the result of my endless tinkering. Title is from “How Soon Is Now” by The Smiths.
 

* * *
 

Brian knew something was wrong when Jennifer showed up at the loft. It wasn’t that they didn’t talk; they did, but generally by phone. Shortly after Justin moved to New York, Jennifer had declared wedding or no wedding, as far as she was concerned, Brian was her son-in-law. When she hadn’t seen Justin in a while and wanted to check up on him without hovering, she called Brian. For his part, Brian found ways to reassure her while pretending he wasn’t in almost constant contact with Justin. It worked for both of them.

He had a brief moment of panic when he saw her standing there before he remembered he’d talked to Justin only ten minutes ago. There wasn’t enough time for something to have happened to him, and even if there was, Brian would know before Jennifer.

“I need a drink.” Those were the first words out of her mouth once Brian invited her in. She shook her head when he reached for a bottle of wine, smiling when he picked up the gin instead.

“So what did Molly do now?” Brian asked while mixing her drink. Molly wasn’t Justin. She hadn’t left home and found an older lover. Instead she became the quintessential child of divorce, perfecting the art of playing one parent against the other. There always seemed to be something she wanted, something she was demanding of Jennifer in proof that Jennifer was the parent that loved her best.

“It’s not Molly; it’s Craig. He’s dying.”

Brian smiled and lifted his own glass, “Cheers.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I,” Brian poured himself another drink. He wouldn’t pretend to have even the slightest regard for Craig’s life.

“As much as I understand the sentiment, that’s not why I’m here. It’s about Justin.”

“The bastard doesn’t think he’s going to ask Justin for blood or an organ.” It wasn’t a question. There was no way, no fucking way, Brian would let Justin be put at risk for Craig.

“God, no. It’s beyond that anyway.” At Brian’s raised eyebrow, the closest he could come to an inquiry, she continued. “It’s cancer. Pancreatic they think, but by the time they found it, it had spread everywhere. Treatment was pointless, and now it’s just a matter of time. He wants to see Justin.”

“Jennifer,” Brian blew out a long breath. It was Justin’s choice, of course, but to even ask that of him. . . “Are you sure?”

“I saw him today,” Jennifer nodded. “He’d been keeping it a secret, but like I said, he doesn’t have much time. A few weeks, maybe, and those will be spent in the hospital. He finally told Molly last night, and he asked her to tell me.”

Brian saw the slight sheen of tears in Jennifer’s eyes, and although he ignored them, he bit back his words about Craig’s thoughtlessness in passing that task on to Molly, and passing Justin off onto Jennifer.

“I don’t know how he’ll react,” Brian said when the silence between them became awkward.

“I know, and whatever he decides is fine. I think even Craig understands that.” She closed her eyes briefly, opening them and smiling when Brian snorted. “But he has to be told. And Brian. . .”

“I’ll do it,” he said in answer to her unasked question. He’d been doing the heavy lifting where Justin was concerned for years. There was no reason for this to be any different.

“Thank you,” she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “I should be going. I need to see Molly, make sure she’s okay.”

Brian escorted her to the door, not surprised when she paused. “Don’t wait too long.”

He nodded and waited until the elevator was on its way down to shut the door. He rested his head on the cool metal for a moment before shouting, “Fuck.” He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to bring Craig back into Justin’s life. They hadn’t spoken since Craig had Justin arrested years ago, and Justin never expressed the slightest desire to change that. But Craig wasn’t completely out of the picture. Brian knew Justin blamed him for Molly’s continued resentment of Justin. While she had no problem with Justin being gay, she did accept her father’s belief that Justin’s selfishness had ruined their family. They were polite for Jennifer’s sake, but that was about the extent of their relationship, and Brian knew that bothered Justin.

After pacing the loft for a few minutes, Brian picked up the phone. “Hey,” he said in response to Justin’s greeting. “I have some unexpected free time Friday afternoon so I thought I’d come up for the weekend. That work for you?”

“Sure.” Justin sounded a little confused, which was understandable, considering Brian hadn’t mentioned anything about visiting when they spoke earlier. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m just desperate for an above average fuck.” Brian hoped he sounded convincing.

“Above average, huh?” Justin laughed. “I think I can accommodate you.”

“You bet your ass you can. I’ll see you soon.” Brian hung up to the sound of Justin’s continued laughter. He set the phone down and rubbed his eyes. How the fuck was he going to do this?

* * *
 

Brian was almost asleep, head resting comfortable in the small of Justin’s back, when he heard Justin speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not a damn thing.” And Brian wasn’t exaggerating. At that moment he was almost unbearably content. And exhausted. They’d fucked twice, well three times if you count jerking each other off in the hallway immediately after Brian arrived, in the past six hours. He’d fucked Justin in the shower before they’d gone out for the evening. Justin had discovered yet another new club he wanted to show Brian, but desire had led to an early night, and Brian had spent the last hour becoming intimately reacquainted with every inch of Justin’s body. He didn’t have a care in the world.

“I mean why are you here?”

Justin rolled over beneath him, and Brian was almost too distracted by his sudden proximity to Justin’s cock, soft as it might be, to remember exactly why he was there. He’d hoped to avoid this conversation for a while longer, but he should have known better. As he and Justin moved closer to being back in the same city, their visits shifted from spontaneous, whirlwind trips, to longer, planned stays that allowed them to readjust to living together. Showing up for the weekend like this when Justin spent two weeks in Pittsburgh last month, was a good indication that something was going on. Suddenly the state of Justin’s cock seemed rather appropriate.

Brian pushed himself up on his elbows and exhaled loudly. He didn’t want to do this. Despite his concern, Justin still lay boneless on the bed. Brian didn’t want to be the one to change that, didn’t want to bring the bastard back into Justin’s life. But he had to. Moving up on the bed, Brian kissed Justin then brushed his hair off his face.

Justin caught his hand, fear creeping into his eyes. “You’re not sick again, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Brian smiled reassuringly. He knew the time had come. “But your. . . Craig is. He’s dying, and he wants to see you.”

“Fuck,” Justin dropped Brian’s hand and covered his face.

“So soon?” It was a sad attempt at humor.

Justin lifted his hands long enough to smile at Brian, but he didn’t take the bait. “I should call my mother.”

“Yeah,” Brian agreed, rolling onto his back to lie next to Justin. He looked at the clock and realized Jennifer would have gone to bed hours ago. “It’s late; this can wait until morning. Come here.”

Justin moved easily into his arms, but neither of them spoke. They stayed together in a silent embrace until they finally fell asleep.
 

* * *

It would be so easy to change his mind. Brian was waiting in the lounge. If Justin said he was leaving, Brian would follow him without hesitation. No one could blame him for walking away. But Justin had never done the easy thing.

He knocked softly before entering the room. If he hadn’t been sure he was in the right place, if a nurse hadn’t personally escorted him to this door only a few minutes before, he would have thought he was in the wrong room. The man in the bed was pale, gaunt, clearly dying, and looked nothing like the father he remembered. “Dad?” he said quietly making it more of a question than he meant to.

“Justin,” Craig opened his eyes and tried to smile “I’m glad you came. Sit down.”

“Thanks.” Justin sat in the chair closer to the foot of the bed. His eyes were the only thing Justin recognized in his father, and that brought home how in all ways this man was a stranger. He had no idea what to say. It wasn’t like he could ask Craig how he was or what he’d been doing. The answers to both those questions were obvious.

“Molly tells me you live in New York now.”

“I moved there several years ago,” Justin was grateful for a safe topic. “Molly’s visited with Mom a few times. They both like to shop.”

Craig laughed. “I told her she should major in shopping instead of whatever it is this week, political science I think?”

Justin shrugged. He didn’t know much about Molly’s life, but their mother had complained about her lack of direction. “She’ll find her way.”

“Like you did?” Craig asked, his eyes sharpening.

“I think she’ll have an easier time of it.” Neither of them spoke for a minute, and when Justin shifted in his chair he knocked over the portfolio he’d forgotten he brought. “Mom said you wanted to see some of my work. These are just prints; the actual paintings are much larger.” He set the portfolio gently on the bed, being careful not to hurt Craig, but also not to touch him.

As Craig paged slowly through the prints, Justin found himself talking about technique, brush strokes, and experiments with color and texture. He knew Craig didn’t understand most of what he was saying, but he wanted to fill the silence. There was so much about the paintings he couldn’t share with Craig. He couldn’t point to a painting and tell him how he painted it after the first time he had a nightmare in New York, and he realized how far away Brian was. He wouldn’t show Craig which one he’d given Ben and Michael for their fifth anniversary or explain how the painting that had been the center piece of his first solo show was the closest he’d ever come to being able to express what he felt hearing Brian say “ I love you” for the first time. So instead he reduced his work to a process.

“These are very intense. I don’t know much about art, but I can picture these in a museum.” Craig handed the portfolio back to Justin.

“Thanks,” Justin decided to take it as an overture, not a qualification.

“Do they sell?”

“Very well actually. I do some contract graphics work, but painting has been my primary income for the last year.”

“That’s good. You’re being careful with your money, making investments?”

Justin wanted to laugh. He shouldn’t be surprised it would come back to business and money. “I have an accountant. Ted, he’s a friend of ours, and he takes money very seriously. You’d approve.”

“Your future is important to me. I’ve always wanted you to have what you needed to be successful.”

“I know.”

“I want you to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“I am. I am happy.” Justin spread his hands out on his thighs and flexed his fingers. He looked at them and wished he was wearing his ring. He wished in that moment that he and Brian were already married, that he could point to his ring and somehow his father would understand. Maybe a wedding ring, a symbol Craig would recognize, could explain what Justin couldn’t. His dreams might not have been the ones Craig had for him, but that didn’t make them wrong. He had a career he loved, a family who supported him, and he had Brian. He had love, and sooner rather than later, he’d have a husband and a house in the country. He sighed, realizing ring or no ring, his father wouldn’t understand. Letting him know he was happy would have to be enough.

He saw Craig’s hand tighten momentarily and realized he was dosing himself with a painkiller. He stood up. “You’re tired. I should go.”

“Wait!” Craig sat up a bit and looked at Justin with an intensity that bordered on pleading. “There are things I need to say to you. Stay, please.”

It was the “please” that did it. Justin nodded reluctantly, but he didn’t sit down.

“The things I did; I know you don’t understand. Maybe someday you’ll have children, and you’ll know what it means to protect them. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but it was the only way I knew to make you see, to keep you safe. I thought if I pushed hard enough, you would see what you had to do.”

“It’s okay.” What else could he say? It would never be right, but what point was there in arguing now?

“Justin, I meant what I said before. All I want is for you to be happy. I’m sorry if I had to hurt you to try and make sure you could be happy.”

Craig reached out his hand, and Justin took it, surprised by the strength of Craig’s grip. “It’s okay,” he said again, at a loss for words. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Craig squeezed his hand. His eyes drifted shut, but he forced them open. “Want you to know. . . love you.”

“I know, Dad.” Justin met Craig’s eyes. When he felt the hand holding his go slack, and Craig closed his eyes again, he pulled his own hand back. He stood there for a few more minutes looking at the man who had once been his father, who he would never see alive again, and wondered why he felt nothing.

Brian was exactly where Justin had left him. He stood when Justin entered the lounge, studying him carefully and reaching a hand out to caress his cheek. “Are you okay?”

Justin forced a smile, but didn’t lean into Brian’s hand. “I’m fine. Let’s go home.”

He barely spoke during the ride to the loft, responding to Brian’s attempts at conversation with half-hearted acknowledgements. Justin caught himself drumming his fingers on his leg faster and faster as Brian drove. He was becoming increasingly impatient to be home, to be as far away from the hospital as possible.

As soon as they got to the loft, he headed for the bathroom. He was stripped and in the shower before Brian had the alarm reset. He wanted the hospital smells of medicine and overcooked food off him now. Justin was vigorously scrubbing his chest when he heard Brian come in behind him.

Brian began washing his hair, tilting his face up so Justin was forced to look at him. “What did he say to you?”

Justin shook his head. “It’s not him. I’m fine. I just hate the smell. Hospitals always smell like death and fear, and I want that gone.”

“Okay, okay.” Brian ran his hand through Justin’s hair, rinsing the shampoo out.

Justin knew Brian was trying to comfort him, but he didn’t want that. He dropped to his knees and began licking Brian’s cock. He ran his tongue along the head before taking it in. He sucked and licked until it was hard and pulsing in his mouth. Then he stood up and faced the wall. “Fuck me,” he demanded pushing his ass out toward Brian.

Two fingers pushed roughly into his hole, and Justin flexed his knees and moved with them. He moaned, eager for more. Brian knew him, knew what he wanted. He stretched Justin just enough to keep from hurting him, then it was Brian’s cock filling him.

“Harder,” Justin braced himself against the wall when Brian began moving faster. He lost himself in the burn and the pleasure, in the tightness of Brian’s grip as he jerked Justin off while fucking him. Two more thrusts, one more stroke of Brian’s hand, and Justin arched his back and came. He held himself up just long enough to feel Brian reach his own orgasm. Then he let go.
 

* * *

The funeral was ten days later. Justin’s plane was delayed, and they missed calling hours. Brian had never been more grateful for the inefficiency of airlines. He hadn’t been to a funeral since Vic’s and had no desire to repeat the experience, but Justin asked him to come.

He walked with Justin through the receiving line, smiling politely when he was introduced to Justin’s grandparents and aunt. Craig’s parents and sister lived out of state, and Justin hadn’t seen them since shortly after Molly was born. Brian knew Justin still received birthday and Christmas cards from his grandparents, but he never mentioned his aunt. Brian had no idea if they shared Craig’s views on Justin’s “disgusting lifestyle” or not. Their smiles may have faltered a bit when Justin introduced him as “my partner”, but they didn’t say anything, and Brian had no interest in creating a scene.

Molly was the last person in line. Justin spent a few minutes talking to her, and Brian noticed he was holding her hand. He hoped for Justin’s sake that without Craig between them, they could find some common ground. Brian hugged her and told her he was sorry for her loss. It was the best he could do and still be honest. He didn’t mourn for Craig for even a second, but he empathized with Molly. She was the only person who looked like she meant it when she thanked him for coming.

They sat with Jennifer in the second row right behind Craig’s other ex-wife. He’d met, married, and divorced her in less than two years. Justin didn’t know her name. Brian tuned out the ceremony. It was of no interest to him, but Justin seemed equally unmoved and that concerned him. He noticed Jennifer tear up a few times and reach for Justin’s hand, and while he comforted her, his face remained impassive.

The graveside service was thankfully brief and held in a small pavilion nowhere near the actual grave. Once the coffin was taken away, people gathered in small groups to mingle. Brian hung back, wanting to give Justin time with his family if he needed it. He watched Justin spend a few minutes with everyone, smiling and talking, but keeping his distance. Accepting hugs and handshakes when they were offered, but never reaching out. The only person he made a real effort to interact with was Molly.

Before long Jennifer joined him. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for coming. He’s going to need you.”

“He’s strong,” Brian shrugged.

“He’s had to be, hasn’t he.”

She sighed, and Brian put his arm around her. “Are you okay?”

“It must seem strange to you, knowing my recent history with Craig. And I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive him for the things he did to Justin, but I loved him once. He was a good man then. Or at least I thought he was.”

Justin’s arrival saved him from having to reply. He hugged his mother before reaching for Brian’s hand. “You ready?”

Brian nodded and took Justin’s hand. He noticed that most people had left the pavilion and were headed to their cars. Only Craig’s immediate family remained.

“There’s a lunch at the church hall,” Jennifer put her hand on Justin’s arm. “Are you two coming?”

Brian raised an eyebrow at Justin; it was his call. But he couldn’t help being relieved when Justin shook his head.

“No, I already said my goodbyes. It’s time to go.”

Jennifer hugged them both again, and then Justin led him to the door without stopping to talk to anyone else. Just like after the hospital, the ride back to the loft was mostly silent. But instead of frantic, Justin was subdued. Brian thought that might be worse.

“Are you hungry?” Brian asked once they were back home.

“No.” Justin walked past the kitchen. “Do you need to go to the office?”

“I think they can muddle through for one day without me.” Brian moved behind Justin and walked toward the bedroom, propelling Justin along with him. As they neared the bed, he began unbuttoning Justin’s shirt.

“You should take this off, get more comfortable.” He slipped it off carefully, almost but not quite brushing against Justin’s skin. He shook his head when Justin reached for him. Moving even closer, he unbuttoned his own shirt leaving the space he needed to work the buttons as the only distance between them.

“Isn’t that better?” he whispered letting his breath warm Justin’s ear. He smirked when Justin swallowed hard and nodded. Desire was already darkening Justin’s eyes. Brian kept the same pattern while removing the rest of their clothes. He remained close enough that Justin could feel the heat from his body, but never touched his skin.

Once they were both naked, Brian walked in a slow circle around Justin still keeping the smallest of distances between them. Justin’s eyes were closed, and his breath came in small pants. Brian took a step back, then ran his fingertips under Justin’s palm. Justin gasped at this first contact between them. Brian curled their fingers together and pulled Justin onto the bed with him.

He pushed Justin onto his back and crawled on top of him, holding Justin's hands above his head. Brian buried his face in Justin’s neck, nuzzling, licking, kissing, biting the soft skin there. He moved his mouth along his throat and collarbone tasting salt and the bitter flavor of Justin’s cologne.

“God, Brian,” Justin wrapped his legs around Brian’s and bucked his hips.

Brian let go of Justin’s hands and dragged his own down the length of Justin’s arms. He spread his fingers wide wanting to touch as much of Justin’s skin as he could. He tangled his fingers briefly in the hair at Justin’s armpits, and made sure to brush his nipples as he slid his hands over his chest. When he reached the small of Justin’s back, Brian brought his hands under Justin’s ass, kneading the firm flesh there. He pushed up and brought their cocks together. Justin shuddered and moaned.

Justin wrapped a hand in Brian’s hair and pulled him up for a rough kiss. Brian smiled against Justin’s mouth before pulling back. He leaned down and bit Justin’s nipple. Hard.

“Fuck!” Justin arched beneath him.

“You want this?” Brian growled.

“Yes,” it was barely more than an exhaled breath.

“Good,” Brian smacked his hip. “Turn over.”

Justin rolled onto his stomach, and Brian settled between his legs. He wasted no time pulling Justin’s hips up and spreading his cheeks so he could eat his ass. Brian pushed his tongue in immediately, wriggling as much as he could with Justin tense from the sudden invasion. He withdrew and licked the entire length of Justin’s crack before sucking hard at his hole. He licked and sucked until Justin’s hole was relaxed and wet enough from his saliva that he could push fingers in along with his tongue. Justin begged him for more, moving back every time Brian started to withdraw. His cock was hard despite neither of them touching it.

“Brian, need to come NOW!” he demanded.

“Not yet.” Brian squeezed the base of Justin’s cock, laughing a little when he yelped. He grabbed a condom and hastily put it on. After slicking himself up, he thrust hard into Justin’s ass, making sure to hit his prostate on the first stroke.

They both moaned, and Brian wanted nothing more than to pound into him, but he didn’t. Withdrawing almost completely, he began to thrust slowly keeping his strokes short and measured. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough and that’s exactly what Brian wanted. He ghosted his hand around Justin’s cock, teasing him constantly by dragging his fingers down the length of his cock or letting his balls rest in the palm of his hand. He’d circle Justin’s cock gently, holding it but not squeezing.

Justin was begging almost constantly. Brian loved the sound of his voice as he pleaded for more or yelled at Brian to fuck him harder. He randomly thrust deeper making Justin shout in surprise and satisfaction when he hit his prostate. Then he pulled back and started again. Brian kept it up as long as he could. Finally they were both sweating and he could feel Justin’s leg’s shaking beneath him. His own balls ached with the need to come, and he decided it was time. Brian began jerking Justin off as he thrust as hard and deep as he could. He felt Justin’s whole body shudder as he began to come, and then his own orgasm hit, leaving him blind to anything but his own pleasure.

Stretching his legs out, Justin collapsed on the bed. Brian rested against him, trying to catch his breath. “Love you,” he whispered in the space between Justin’s shoulder blades.

Justin reached a hand back and awkwardly stroked the skin along Brian’s side. “I know. Thank you.”
 

* * *
 

Brian was already dressed for work when Justin woke up. “Hey,” he called from the bed, wanting to catch him before he left.

“I thought you might sleep all day.” Brian shrugged his jacket on and he walked back up the steps to the bedroom. He smiled and leaned down to kiss Justin.

He tasted like coffee, and Justin lazy licked the inside of his mouth as they kissed. “You wore me out,” he said stretching.

“My pleasure,” Brian licked his lips. “So what are your plans for the day?”

“Mom wants to have lunch, and my plane leaves in the early afternoon so I’ll just take a cab from the restaurant.”

“Okay,” Brian dragged the word out slightly.

Justin saw the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but Brian didn’t ask any questions. They hadn’t talked about when he was going back, and normally Justin would have stayed as long as possible. But right now, he just wanted to get away from Pittsburgh as quickly as he could. “I have a deadline coming up in a few days so I need to get back.”

Brian nodded, “Painting or graphics?”

“Graphics,” Justin wrinkled his nose. “Nothing too difficult, but time consuming.” Nothing Justin couldn’t do from Pittsburgh, and Brian knew that. Justin hoped he wouldn’t call him on it.

“Call me when you plane lands.” Brian kissed him one more time then left without waiting for a response.

Lunch with his mother was as awkward as Justin expected it to be. He knew what she wanted, but he played along with her attempts to pretend she didn’t have an agenda. She waited until their plates were cleared to bring up Craig.

“Justin, we haven’t really had a chance to talk about your father. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled to reassure her.

“It can’t have been easy to see him after all those years under these circumstances.”

“What other circumstances would I have seen him under?” Justin tried not to sound bitter, but it wasn’t like Craig had tried for a reconciliation or anything. He’d just wanted another chance to plead his case, to make Justin see he’d been right.

“Honey, I know there had to be a part of you that hoped someday Craig would accept you. I thought maybe at the end?” Jennifer looked hopeful.

Justin shook his head. “He wanted understanding, maybe forgiveness. I gave it to him. He got what he needed from me.”

“What about you? Did you get what you needed?”

“When has that ever mattered to Dad?”

“It matters to me,” Jennifer reached for his hand.

Justin forced a smile. “I got what I expected.”

Her face fell. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay Mom, really.” Justin stood and walked around the table to hug her. “I have to go, but I’ll call you soon. Tell Molly she can call me if she wants to talk or something.”
 

* * *

A few nights after the funeral, Michael showed up at the loft with pizza, ribs, chili dogs, and fries. He also had, if Brian’s nose wasn’t deceiving him, some really strong pot. “Is Justin here?” he asked, looking past Brian.

“No, he went back to New York.”

“Oh,” Michael walked in and set the food on the counter. “I just thought,” he said gesturing to the pile.

“You know,” Brian began, rubbing a hand over his face. “Most people bring the grieving family casseroles and baked goods not marijuana and toxic take out.”

Michael shrugged and smiled. “It’s always worked for us.”

Brian smiled back. “True and it is a sin to waste food.”

An hour later they were both stuffed and more than a little buzzed. “Mikey, you truly are your mother’s son, but at least you don’t make me eat tuna.”

“I think I should be offended, but I’m not sure why.” They both cracked up laughing. “I didn’t come just to see Justin. Are you okay?”

“Other than having raised my cholesterol ten points tonight, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just thought this might have been hard on you too.”

Brian snatched what was left of the joint from Michael’s hand. He took one last deep drag before stubbing it out. “No more pot for you. Mikey, even you could not have become so family friendly as to believe I give a shit that Craig’s dead. Frankly, it’s a relief. The one hard part of this whole thing was not standing up at his funeral and telling everyone what a sanctimonious, no good bastard he was.”

“That would have gone over well,” Michael rolled his eyes. “I meant because of your own dad.”

“What’s Jack got to do with anything?” Brian looked at Michael as if he’d lost his mind.

“You had a hard time when he died, and well, this is a pretty similar thing.”

“Michael, Michael, Michael, did you come to save me from tortured memories of my father? For once, this is not about me. Jack and Craig were nothing alike.”

“They both treated you like shit, and then made a half-assed attempt at being nice before they died. Doesn’t sound so different to me.” Michael crossed his arms and tried to glare. Brian thought he looked more like he was crossing his eyes.

Obviously Michael wasn’t going to let this go. “I need a drink. Come on.” He motioned for Michael to follow him to the living room. Brian poured large glasses of whatever was in the first bottle he found, setting both the bottle and the glasses on the coffee table with a thud.

“Shoes,” he demanded when Michael collapsed onto the couch. He tossed his drink back while Michael took off his shoes, socks, and for reasons known only to him, his shirt as well.

“So where were we?” Brian asked as he settled into his favorite chair.

“Your dad,” Michael supplied helpfully.

“That’s right. Jack who is not Craig who is not Jack. Exactly,” Brian nodded. “Justin didn’t get it either. When he first left home he missed his father, thought someday Craig could accept him and they’d be one big happy family again.” Brian snorted. “He couldn’t understand why I didn’t want anything to do with Jack, why I wished he’d fucking disown me.”

“He always hurt you,” Michael said sadly.

“What you seem to have forgotten, is unlike Craig, Jack hated me long before he knew I was gay. That was just the icing on the fucking cake. Jack hated me for breathing, for tying him to my bitch of a mother. Then he hated me for being everything he wasn’t-young, rich, handsome, and most importantly, free. I could have married Lindsay, and Gus could have really been our son, and he still would have hated me. He wanted me to be as miserable as he was, and then he would have hated me for being a failure. It was always lose-lose with him.

"Christ, I need another drink.” Brian sighed loudly and refilled their glasses. “It was different for Justin. Craig made very clear exactly why he hated Justin, and what Justin could do to change that. Be a straight businessman, and everything’s cool. Fuck that. Fuck Craig, fuck Jack, fuck all of them.” Brian and Michael both raised their drinks, then downed them quickly.

They sat in silence for a while. Brian poured them fresh drinks, but they only sipped them. Brian was studying the way the light reflected off his glass when something occurred to him. “I’m glad Gus is in Canada,” he said abruptly.

“Huh?”

“Lindsay was right to take him away.”

“She didn’t, I mean that’s not why they went.” Michael sat back up.

“Oh, I know that wasn’t the reason, but it was still a good idea. It’s a lot harder for me to fuck up his life from another country.” Gus was safe, he thought, not just from a homophobic government, but from his own screwed up idea of parenting.

“You’re not going to fuck up his life.” Michael sounded indignant.

“Not now, I’m not. But if they stayed here, things would be different. It’s not like I’ve seen any shining examples of fatherhood.”

“Look, just because your dad and Justin’s dad-”

Brian interrupted him, “And Emmett’s and Ted’s and Lindsay’s and Ben’s?” Brian raised a questioning eyebrow. He’d never heard Ben mention his family, but he wasn’t surprised when Michael nodded reluctantly.

“That doesn’t mean anything. And we’re all gay.”

“Oh that’s encouraging. If who you fuck is the problem, Gus is screwed. He has, what, a ten to fifteen percent chance of being gay and an almost ninety percent chance of being straight. He’ll be the first kid to have his father fuck up his life because he’s straight.” Brian laughed.

“You’re missing my point,” Michael waved his finger at Brian in what would have been an eerie imitation of Debbie if he hadn’t been aiming over Brian’s head. “Ben and I are doing good with Hunter and JR.”

“As much as I admire you and the professor’s bond with your foundling, considering his background anything short of, oh I don’t know, murdering him in his sleep would be considered a triumph.”

“You love Gus. You’re a good dad,” Michael insisted.

“Mikey,” Brian shook his head. Michael had been raised in a loving home, insane, but loving nonetheless. He didn’t get it. “It’s not about love or wanting to be a good dad. Odds are I’ll find some way to make Gus wish Melanie’s balls were fully functional. Distance will just lessen the impact.”

Michael’s only response was a loud snore. Brian laughed and forced himself up. He shifted Michael so he was stretched out on the couch and covered him with a blanket. As he went around the loft shutting off lights, he thought about calling Justin. But he realized it was late, and he didn’t know what he might say as trashed as he was so he went to bed instead.
 

* * *

Brian passed out more than slept that night, but the following night he dreamt of his father. In his dream, he went about his day like he always did, but Jack was in the background laughing at him. The next night he dreamt he went to New York, but Justin’s apartment was empty and he wouldn’t answer his phone. Brian walked around the city trying to find him, but every time he turned a corner Jack or Craig was there. He’d asked them where Justin was, becoming more and more frantic, but they just laughed and walked away. It took Brian hours to shake that dream, but Jack wasn’t done with him yet.

His father was dressed like a lumberjack and holding Gus at the age he’d been the one and only time Jack had seen him. Brian knew if he didn’t get Gus away from Jack he’d never see him again. But every time he took a step toward them, Jack took one back, shaking his head and laughing. It wasn’t as if the dream was hard to figure out, but it took several more nights of his dead, but not dearly departed, father haunting his dreams for him to call Lindsay.

“So I thought I’d come up for a weekend some time soon, spend a little time with Gus.” Brian tried not to sound too eager.

“That would be great,” Lindsay said warmly. “I’ll check the schedule and email you some dates, if that’s okay?”

“Fine.”

“Will Justin be coming with you?”

“I don’t know.” As soon as Brian said it he knew it was a mistake.

“How is he?”

“He says he’s fine.” Again, Brian revealed more than he meant to. Talking to Lindsay did that to him.

“Brian,” her voice held a warning.

“Don’t start, Linds, just don’t.”

“Look, I know this has been hard on you, too, but-”

“Fuck,” Brian cut her off. “You’re as bad as Michael, thinking Craig kicking the bucket has set off my own daddy issues. But you’re both wrong. Like I told him, this is not about me.” He wished they’d give him a little credit.

“Then why don’t you know if he’s fine? Why don’t you know if he wants to visit Gus with you? Why aren’t you with him?” Lindsay sounded more confused than accusing which is the only reason he didn’t hang up on her.

“Justin’s a big boy. He can take care of himself, and he’s a lot stronger than people give him credit for.”

“You’re right, Brian. Justin can take care of himself; he’s been doing it for a long time. But normally you’re right there with him, making sure he doesn’t have to do it alone. Don’t you think he depends on your presence, your strength, even if he doesn’t need it?”

“Lindsay, just let it go.” Brian didn’t fully understand his own reluctance to push things with Justin, but he knew he didn’t want to analyze it with Lindsay.

“Fine, but let me say one thing. I’m sure you have your reasons for staying away from Justin-”

“I’m not staying away from him,” Brian interrupted, starting to get a little angry. “We do live in different cities, something I’m sure you remember.”

“You know what I mean.” Lindsay was using her “mother” voice. Brian knew better than to argue. “You may think this is what Justin wants or that he’s handling everything just fine. But you know better than anyone, no matter how bad his relationship with Craig was, he’s going to struggle with his death. Given your history with Craig, he may be unsure of your reaction to his grief. Don’t make him ask, Brian. Be there for him.”

“Are you done?”

“Yes, I am. I’ll send you those dates in the morning, and I look forward to seeing both of you soon.”

“Goodbye,” Brian said pointedly, hanging up before she could say anything else.

Brian should have known calling Lindsay would be a mistake. She knew him too well, and she had a way of making him think about things he’d rather ignore. Despite his denials, he knew from experience that Justin was probably rethinking his entire relationship with Craig, wondering how it could have been different. His conversation with Lindsay made him realize it was his own role in Justin’s split with his father that he hoped Justin wasn’t examining too closely. Giving Justin the time and space to work through this on his own was a convenient way to avoid hearing about any regrets Justin might have. Brian was a fucking coward, but it wasn’t like that came as a surprise.
 

* * *

It was late when his phone rang. Brian smiled in relief when he saw it was Justin. They hadn’t talked in a few days, and with Lindsay’s words still fresh in his mind, he was starting to worry. “Hey,” he greeted Justin softly.

“I haven’t painted anything in three weeks,” Justin said flatly. “I haven’t even tried.”

“Fuck.” Brian was up and pacing. It only took a second to do the math, not since he saw Craig in the hospital.

“That’s kind of my thought, too.”

“He’s not worth it. Justin, you know that.”

“That doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“Justin,” Brian said, hearing the desperation in his own voice.

“Why aren’t you here?” Justin asked quietly.

“I can be,” Brian was already looking for his pants, shoes.

“No, don’t. I’m just being melodramatic.” Justin laughed. “I think I need to get very drunk, and then we can both forget I called. I’m sorry, Brian.”

“Are you sure?”

“I told you I’m overreacting. You know how I get when painting isn’t going well. It’s not a big deal.”

Justin sounded fine, almost too fine. Brian knew the difference between not being happy with his painting and not painting at all. But he didn’t want to get into it over the phone. “I love you,” he said because it was all he had to offer right then.

“You too,” Justin sounded tired. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Brian was on the road in less than ten minutes. Even at night the drive took too long, but it was the quickest way to get to Justin. He turned his radio up louder than normal and tried to lose himself in the music. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to waste hours worrying about something he couldn’t fix. Brian reminded himself again and again of what a drama queen Justin could be. It was a cold comfort.

It was still dark when Brian finally made it to Justin’s apartment. The sun wouldn’t be up for a few hours yet. But when he let himself in, he found Justin sitting on the couch, staring out the window. Brian came up behind him and rested his hands on Justin’s shoulders. “You’re not drunk.”

Justin shook his head. “I wasn’t sure if you’d end up coming or not, so I waited.”

“You could have asked.”

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted you to come or not.” Justin tilted his head back so he could see Brian. “Besides, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not the one who left. If you wanted to see me you could have stayed instead of taking off,” Brian bit his lip and stopped.

“That wasn’t about you, and you know it. I couldn’t stay, not then.”

“And now?”

“And now I’m wondering when you are going to stop thinking one day I’m going to regret this, regret you.”

Justin had always been too smart. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, dropping a kiss on the top of Justin’s head to soften his answer. “Am I that transparent?”

“To me you are,” Justin laughed and reached his hand up. Brian took it and walked around the end of the couch to sit next to him. Justin turned to face him, his expression a mixture of frustration and amusement. “Did you think when Craig died, I would start to think if I hadn’t met you, been with you, stalked you, loved you, my father and I would somehow have been okay?"

Brian didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to. Justin shook his head again.

“Brian, you weren’t waiting outside St. James trolling for twinks. I went to Liberty Avenue all on my own. I was ready, and it was all going to fall apart with or without you. If I hadn’t met you, maybe it would have taken longer or maybe I would have gotten into something I couldn’t handle and ended up a tweaked out mess.” Justin shrugged.

“Instead you met me.” Brian tried to sound casual, but he knew what could have happened to Justin. He’d always known. Those were the scenarios he fought against that first year when he wanted nothing more than to get Justin out of his life. But he’d never been able to do it, never been able to take the chance.

“Instead I met you.” Justin smiled for the first time. “And I became the best homosexual I could be. I don’t regret that, and I never will.”

“So why aren’t you painting?” Justin had said everything he needed to, and Brian had heard him. He had more pressing concerns now.

“I feel like I don’t have anything to paint.” The hand Brian was holding twitched restlessly so Brian stroked it with his thumb. “I went to see him because I felt like I had to, but part of me was hoping we’d be able to, I don’t’ know, fix things before he died. But the man in that hospital room, Brian, he wasn’t my father.”

Justin looked away, but Brian didn’t push him to continue. He waited, idly running his free hand over Justin’s thigh.

“He wasn’t the father I remembered from before. The one I was sure loved me and was proud of me so I couldn’t say goodbye to him. And he wasn’t the bastard who rejected me, who had me arrested, who never came to see me when I was in the hospital because at heart he believed I deserved what happened to me. He was just a stranger who was dying and wanted me to tell him everything he did was okay. What else was I supposed to do?”

“You did what you had to do,” Brian said it with conviction. He wished he’d forced Justin to tell him about this sooner, that he hadn’t let it build.

“When I left, I felt empty. It was like everything I’d ever felt for him was gone. But it wasn’t. It’s all still there, the anger, the hurt, the need for him to see that I’m fine the way I am, that I’m not less. He’s gone now, so what the fuck am I supposed to do with all that?” Justin’s eyes were bright with anger.

“You could say those things to me, or we could go to his grave,” Brian said with obvious distaste. He hated psychobabble, but for Justin he’d be willing to try. He rubbed his forehead, trying to think of something that would help. “Can’t you write him a letter and then burn it, or some shit like that?”

Justin looked at him for a minute then started laughing. He laughed so hard tears ran down his face, and he could barely breathe. He pulled his hand from Brian’s and wrapped his arms around his stomach. Justin laughed so long that Brian started laughing with him.

“Oh God, Brian, that’s so wrong. I love you for offering, but no. I think we should stick with what we know best, drugs and sex.”

Justin leaned against him, and Brian could feel the lessening of tension in his body. But something was still bothering Brian; he knew something wasn’t quite right. “Why did you call tonight?”

“I got this in the mail yesterday.” Justin leaned over Brian to reach the end table. He handed Brian a single piece of paper.

Brian skimmed it quickly. It was a letter from Craig’s attorney outlining the steps needed to execute Craig’s will, and estimating the amount of money Justin could expect to receive from his share of the estate. Brian’s eyebrows rose when he saw the figure. “This is a lot of money,” he said neutrally.

“I don’t want it,” Justin said flatly.

His first instinct was to argue. Justin could do a lot with this kind of money, or he could blow it on something extravagant at Craig’s expense. But he thought about everything Justin had just told him; he thought about Justin not painting, and all he said was, “Okay.”

“I talked to Molly, and she agreed to let me sign over my half of the house and car, but she won’t take the money. She said Dad told her after he found out he was dying, he changed his will to give me half of everything. She said he wanted me to have it.” Justin looked uncomfortable.

“What do you think?” That was all Brian cared about.

“Maybe he did want me to have it, but it was for the wrong reasons. If I take it then I’m accepting more from him than just money. It would be like letting him into my life, and I can’t do that. I don’t want it,” he repeated.

“What do you want to do?”

“I was thinking,” Justin said the glint back in his eyes. “I want to give it to PFLAG and the Matthew Sheppard Foundation. He would hate that, but I want it to do some good, help kids who aren’t as lucky as me.”

It still surprised Brian that after everything Justin had gone through, he thought of himself as lucky. “There is a certain poetic justice in that,” Brian smirked. “Debbie will be thrilled.”

“I thought so.”

Brian smothered a yawn, and Justin stood up. “Why don’t you get some sleep,” he suggested pointing to the bed he kept in what was supposed to be the dining room. The small bedroom had the best light so he used it for a studio.

“Join me?” Brian asked as he stood and stretched. Sleep sounded good.

“No, I think. . .” Justin hesitated. “I think I want to work for a little bit.”

He pointed to his studio not the computer so Brian knew he meant he wanted to paint. “Are you sure?” he asked, trying to disguise his relief.

“Yeah,” Justin smiled. “I’ll probably end up trashing anything I do now, but I want to try.”

“What are you going to paint?” Justin always described his painting in terms of the feeling or theme he wanted to convey. Brian was impressed with the number of ways he found to paint desire.

“Irony,” he said looking at the letter they’d left on the couch. “Or maybe triumph.” He leaned up and kissed Brian.

Brian held him close and deepened the kiss, letting his hands linger in Justin’s hair even as he pulled away. “Don’t clean up too much when you’re done. I want to fuck you while you still smell like paint.”

“Promise?” Justin stepped back reluctantly and headed toward his studio.

“Promise,” Brian echoed, making his way to the bed. He’d sleep for a few hours, and if Justin was still painting, like Brian expected, when he woke up, he’d join him in the studio. He wanted to watch Justin paint, wanted to watch him lose himself in something other than grief and doubt. He knew one painting couldn’t fix everything, but it was a start.

 

Return to Jule's Fanfiction