One Year

January I

 

January 2, 2008

The flight was delayed so Justin’s mother had been waiting for several hours before he arrived.

"Honey, I’m so glad to see you," Jennifer lied. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her son, but she knew something was wrong as soon as he called her. He wanted to come to Pittsburgh for a few days before going home. Without Ethan.

Jennifer signaled to a skycap to get Justin’s luggage and they waited outside for a cab.

"You didn’t have to come out, mom, I could’ve taken a cab by myself. I didn’t have to sit with the captain on the plane this time either."

Jennifer struggled to smile. She knew that, and despite her promise to let him talk in his own time, it was all she could do not to hug him. "Of course, sweetheart, I just… I thought we could get something to eat. I don’t have anything at the house."

"It’s after midnight," Justin reminded her.

"Well, it would’ve been perfect for a late supper if the plane was on time," she argued. "Besides, with the time difference I wasn’t sure how you’d feel." She reached across the seat and took his hand. "I know you don’t want to talk right now, but just let me do this, okay?"

"I don’t exactly feel like going back and starting over so I guess it’ll have to do," Justin replied with a heavy sigh, squeezing her hand back and she knew he was teasing, but serious.

Since asking about Ethan and the cruise were obviously out of the question, the woman struggled to think of another topic. "Did I tell you I’m helping organize the PFLAG Carnival this year?" she asked.

"Really? That’s great mom," Justin muttered absently. She didn’t care if he wasn’t listening, at least it was better than trying to ignore the pink elephant between them.

"Yeah, my friend Debbie is in charge…"

She continued to talk to herself for the remainder of the ride home, content with the illusion everything was okay for the time being.

 

***
 

"Morning, sweetheart." Jennifer kissed her son’s cheek as he reached for the coffeepot.

"Morning, Mom." He sipped from the steaming cup as he watched her shuffle through some papers on the table before grabbing her keys and handbag. "What’s up?"

"I have to run to the Liberty Diner to drop off these specs for the PFLAG Carnival," she reminded him.

"Right, your friend Debbie works there, I know you told me last night, Mom, sorry. Want me to go with you, we can have breakfast—um, brunch," he amended when he looked at the clock.

"Sure, honey, but hurry, she’s expecting me before the lunch rush so we can have a few minutes to talk."

 

***
 

Justin grew up in Chicago, went to school at the Art Institute and spent a year in Europe when he graduated. During his absence, his sister graduated from high school and his parents filed for divorce. Jennifer moved to Pittsburgh to be near her sister who was then battling breast cancer, and Justin’s sister stayed in Chicago with their father to attend the Art Institute herself. Eventually, Justin returned home briefly to visit his parents and tell them he’d met Ethan and he was staying in Europe, for art and love.

Justin knew that was what drove his mother to her first PFLAG meeting. He had been honest with his parents from the beginning when he realized he was gay, but talking about it and living with it where two different things. He was proud of his mom’s efforts to support him, and he knew it was a good opportunity for her to meet new people in the community, but sometimes he wished she were a little less vocal about her pride. He was gay, not President.

"Hiya, hon!" An atrocious wig with a gum-snapping mouth attached to it greeted Jennifer and Justin. Speaking of less vocal… Debbie was another one to broadcast his life to every ear in a ten-block radius, and he hardly knew her!

"You remember my son, Justin," Jennifer reintroduced them.

"Of course, I’d never forget that bubble butt," the red-head cackled, "and I bet the boys in France won’t either!"

Justin couldn’t help blushing when every head in the place turned to ogle his ass.

"Ma," a dark-haired man interrupted, thankfully, "I gotta go, his flight gets in at noon."

Debbie’s smile turned to ice as she jabbed a finger at her son’s chest. "You tell that asshole I expect to see him before he goes home."

The man grimaced and took a step back away from her talons. "Yes, ma, his flight to New York doesn’t leave till ten so we’ll be over for dinner."

The woman patted his cheek satisfied. "Good. Go."

Justin felt equal parts of envy that the man got to leave, and relief that he wasn’t the poor guy that was just ordered to attend his last supper.

 

***
 

Michael ran to his friend as he saw the auburn head sauntering down the terminal. "Brian!" he shouted, waving over the crowd in front of him as he tried to weave his way closer.

The other man jerked his head to the escalators and descended to the baggage claim without waiting.

When Michael arrived at the carousel the bags were unloading, but Brian was nowhere in sight.

He scanned the area and saw the man huddled in a corner outside the door as he tried to shield his lighter from the wind. "I should’ve known," Michael grumbled as he stuck his head out the door.

"Don’t start," Brian snapped. "It’s fucking ridiculous that you can’t smoke on the plane. I’m a goddamn adult, I’m not going to set my seat on fire."

"It’s so the rest of us don’t have to share," Michael shot back.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Everyone would have a better flight if they just had a fag and relaxed."

"I thought we were talking about smoking," Michael smirked.

"That to," the other man conceded, stubbing out the remainder of the cigarette on the building. He slung his arm over Michael’s shoulders and they walked back in to retrieve his bags. Brian appraised a tall, raven-haired man waiting at the Hertz counter. "My cock in his mouth, and a cigarette in my mouth is the only way to fly."

Michael groaned. "Didn’t you get enough?"

"No such thing, Mikey, you know that."

"So did you get the account?"

"Hmm?" Brian asked absently as he snagged the first of his bags.

"The guy you abandoned me for? The multimillionaire you jumped shipped with to try and fuck your way to a corner office? Ringing any bells?"

Brian thrust the smaller bag at him as he grabbed the other one. "Wasn’t worth it. He was a lousy lay, and lied about the size of his... company. Doesn’t anyone have any ethics anymore?"

Michael balked. "I told you not to go, but you had to--"

"Get away from Lucy and Ethel before I threw them overboard," Brian finished for him. "Hey, I invited you to get off with me too, remember? But you were too busy playing shuffleboard with the good doctor. What happened with him anyway? Is wittle Mikey in wuv?" Brian pinched his cheeks like Debbie would, although a little harder.

"Fucker," Michael muttered and batted his hands away. "I don’t want to talk about it."

"What happened? It wasn’t love at first sight?" Brian goaded.

"Fuck off," Michael growled. "You don’t give a shit anyway."

Brian put his hand on the man’s shoulder. "Mikey--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," the shorter man sighed. "You don’t believe in love, you believe in fucking." He’d heard it all his life, and he was beginning to believe it himself. They arrived at the car and threw Brian’s bags in the truck. Michael didn’t seem to notice his friend’s sudden obsession with his jacket as he pulled it lower to hide his wrist.

"So what do you say we stop at Woody’s on the way home?" he offered. He was sure Brian had a trick between the beverage service and inflight movie, but that meant he was long overdue for his afternoon blow job. Maybe he’d get one too. No reason why he shouldn’t. "We don’t have to be at Ma’s until six. Plenty of time to get a blow job or three."

Brian just nodded and got into the car, leaving Michael with a big grin on his face as he headed around to the driver’s side. Although Brian had been living in New York for a couple years now, whenever they got together it was like nothing had ever changed.

 

***
 

2 weeks earlier

Justin groaned as he stumbled to open the cabin door. He would’ve cursed whoever it was if he didn’t have his lips tightly pursed together to prevent himself from heaving on his guest. On second thought, they deserved it. He flung the door open and sank into a chair as his knees gave way.

"Oh, my, you do have it bad," a little old woman sympathized as she let herself in. Justin recognized her from their dinner table the first night. It was the only time he’d been out of the cabin in the last two days. Fucking motion sickness. And he had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who insisted they take a cruise for their ‘honeymoon’. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind!

"Mrs. Pierce," he mumbled, holding his stomach as it rolled again.

"You just call me Maddie, my dear." She slipped her arm under his and tried to hoist him up. "Come along--"

"Maddie," he moaned as he shook her off. "I can’t--"

"I know, dear, that’s why I’m here. Your…friend told me you’re ill. I have the same problem and I brought you some of my special tea to help you."

She helped him shuffle back to bed and got him settled in quick grandmotherly fashion before rummaging in her bag for a thermos. She poured a cup and handed it to him. "This you’ll fix you up in a jiffy," she promised.

Justin wrinkled his nose at the stench wafting toward him, but it couldn’t make it any worse, could it?

 

***
 

An hour later, Justin woke to find his stomach had settled down enough for him to move about the cabin a bit. He was still a little shaky, but he wasn’t nearly as nauseous. Maddie left the thermos behind and told him he’d be shipshape by morning, but he didn’t want to wait that long.

Ethan had been so patient and understanding the whole time, leaving him to his misery in peace, that he definitely deserved an extra special thank you. Justin had the rest of the trip to make it up to him, starting now.

 

***
 

Brian couldn’t believe the trick would not stop talking. If he wasn’t as hard as wood he’d have just thrown the trumpet player overboard and gone back to the lounge. The elevator finally came, and Brian shoved the other man to his knees once the doors closed behind them. He quickly undid his pants and pulled the gaping mouth to him.

"Wait—I--" Any other protests were lost as the trick gave in and his lips eagerly fastened around the hard shaft. Nobody ever said no when given the opportunity to suck Brian’s dick.

Brian leaned back against the wall and moaned... in frustration. The trick’s ineptitude was hard to ignore, even in his drunken haze. Shouldn’t someone who uses his mouth for a living be better at giving head? Wait, he wasn’t the trumpet player…Flute? Guitar? Fiddle! No wonder. He should be better with his hands then. Hell, fuck that, all he really needed was his ass anyway. With his hopes of getting off quickly disintegrating as the elevator ground to a halt, Brian had a new plan. He pushed the other man away and struggled to zip himself up again as the doors opened.

"What the-- Oh, god, Ethan…you…" any more stuttering was cut off by an anguished sob as the blonde in the hall suddenly turned and ran.

Brian snickered. "Your hubby, I presume?"

Ethan staggered to his feet and could only nod.

"He should fucking thank me," Brian muttered as he pushed the other man out of the elevator and punched the button to take him back to the top. This time he’d be sure and grab the right guy.

When the doors opened again, Michael was waiting. "There you are!" Ted and Emmett were right behind him, waving vouchers for the casino.

Shit. Who the fuck thought being trapped with the three musketeers on a boat full of breeders for eight days was a good idea? Ignoring them, the ad exec stormed to the bar.


 

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