Homecoming
*10*
(a snippet)
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Brian
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Justin
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Brian
Judging by the buzz I can hear coming from his cell phone, Mother Taylor is over
the moon about the fact that the old bastard has accepted our offer. After a few
minutes chatter, I hear, "I'll ask Brian."
I raise an eyebrow and he says that she's asking if we want to head straight
over to do the paperwork. I guess she wants to lock it in before dear ol' Dan
has a chance to change his mind, so I nod and that's what we do.
She looks like she's going to have a cow when I tell her the price.
"Don't worry, Maw," I tell her, "We'll make sure you get your full commission."
She gives me one of her best `don't mess with me, I'm a mother' looks and says
all snooty WASP, "Don't be silly, Brian."
Then the snooty look fades into a grin so mischeivous that I can see yet again
where Sunshine gets his devious streak from, and she says, "Anyway, the agency
has offered a considerable bonus to anyone who can shift … er, sell … that
property."
She immediately seems to think twice about what she's said, and hurries on, "Of
course, there's nothing wrong with the place. It's wonderful, and structurally
completely sound. We have all the reports. It's just …"
I grin back at her, and our eyes meet and we are in complete silent agreement
about the old buzzard who owns it. Owned it. Well, almost.
"But it's an amazing price," she says. And you can tell by her voice that she's
wondering.
Justin gives her a look and I half expect him to spout out all the "waiting for
you" crap that the old guy came out with, but he just smiles. "He likes it that
I'm an artist. And he thinks Brian's a lot like him."
She nods. Then she looks all … allergic (maybe he gets that from her as well)
and says, "Oh, Justin!" and hugs him.
I try to edge away, but before I can escape she's turned to me.
I'm not quick enough to get my cell out and the photo opportunity is lost, fuck
it! I would have given my favorite easel to get evidence of that look on Brian's
face. It was like a cartoon where the elephant sees the mouse. He was sort of
backing up and … well, it was hilarious. And all because he thought Mom wanted
to hug him.
In the end she just pats him on the face and smiles at him.
"I'm so happy for you both," she says, her voice wobbling a little bit.
Brian sucks his lips in that way he does when he's trying to work out exactly
how to respond to something. Then …
Something happens, it's … again, it's like a cg effect, when you see someone's
face change before your eyes into someone else. Except this time, it's not so
much that it changes, as that you can actually see the emotion spill across it.
One moment it's the face of someone who's buttoned up tight, and the next it's
the face of someone who is … his face is full of joy. Just shining with it.
"Thanks, Ma," he says, and his smile blurs as my eyes dazzle.
I move closer to him and he turns his eyes to me. The affection in them draws me
even closer, and I wrap my arms around his waist.
It hits me suddenly that …
I'm home.
I'm fucking home.
After all the months of loneliness and separation …
I turn more fully towards him and bury my face in his neck, drawing in the scent
of him.
From now on I might go away for a few days, a few weeks even, but I'll be
staying somewhere else temporarily, I won't be in a new home. This is home,
this, right here in his arms. The only home I ever want, ever need. Everything
else, even that lovely house we saw today, is just walls and furniture. And I'm
home, I'm here. He's let me come home to him.
I feel rather than hear his little huff of bemused laughter as I press closer
and my arms tighten around his waist. Then I feel his hand wrap around my neck.
I turn my face up to his and after one brief moment where he seems to look right
down into the corners of my soul, he gives another little huff of laughter and
brushes his lips over my mouth before resting his forehead against mine.
"Ready to go home?" he asks.
I smile at him and let that answer everything.
We head back to the loft.
There are huge fucking amounts of things that need to be done out at the house,
but …
Suddenly we both seem to be in need of a little down time. Not to fuck,
amazingly enough. Just to come back here to familiar territory; to sit over a
cup of coffee and discuss what needs to be done and how we're going to do it and
… to shut the door and lock everyone else on the other side for a while.
I put the coffee maker on (for all his culinary skills he makes lousy coffee)
and as I hear him moving around - going to the bathroom, exclaiming over an old
sketch book, checking out the dvds, generally re-acquainting himself with the
place - it hits me all over again that he's home. Less than forty eight hours
ago I was sitting over there at my desk trying to gather up some fucking shred
of courage so I could fly off to NY for one last time and try to end it cleanly
and set him free with no regrets, no guilt, and now …
He's home. He's fucking home.
As if he hears me think it, he looks across and smiles at me, and not for the
first time I wish to fuck I was as talented as he is so I could fucking capture
how he looks, how it feels when he looks at me that way. That's when I realize
that what's fucking amazing here isn't that he's home.
It's that this time I believe he's going to stay.
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