Homework

Chapter 14:  Celebrations
 

Brian

I guess we must both be getting the hang of this whole "responsible fucking parent" thing, because we've somehow gone over a week without any fucking dramas. Although Sunshine would probably tell you I queened out when he told me about the fucking "holiday program" plan at Gus's school that we seem to have been railroaded into, but I was only understandably concerned about the impact on both our work schedules. So as he says that I'll have to trust him when he says he can handle it, and I can palm most of the Kinnetik based kid-sitting duties off on Cynthia (she can always be bribed with a spa day if necessary), that really didn't cause all that big a ripple.

We've even managed to speak to the parents of the kids that Gus has invited over on Sunday for his own mini-housewarming. They all seem fine. Both of us have met the mothers while we've been picking Gus up from school, and we've both spoken to all the fathers as well. They sound like they should all be in fucking PFLAG. If they haven't got a gay sibling, then it's a gay cousin or aunt or some shit. One of the women actually has all three and the gay cousin is her kid's godmother, so hopefully that will all go okay and Gus will have a good day. He's really looking forward to it, especially because we let him use some of our invitations – or at least, Justin's scanned and modified versions with the time and date changed.

In fact, the only real drama has been over the fact that we've refused to give any of the Liberty gang our new address. Well, okay, we've refused to give it to Deb and Michael. Emmett knows of course, and he's been here a couple of times checking everything out – the kitchen, where all the power points are, all that shit. Ted knows, or could find out, because he's filed all the paperwork on the purchase. Lindsay isn't anywhere near ready to be allowed out to attend a party – let alone this party, which … well … let's just say I suspect it would be a pretty big fucking test.

So that leaves the Novotnys, and I've vetoed giving them the information. Justin almost caved when we were at Deb's Sunday night and she was laying on a classic Italian momma guilt trip, but I reminded him about the likelihood of Deb arriving at dawn on the day of the party to "help", and Mikey manufacturing emergencies so he'd have an excuse to drop in and scope the place out before the day.

I know that we're both going to pay for that, one way or another. They'll both sulk about how they're "family" and they haven't seen the place and all that shit. But that's too fucking bad. Both Justin and I have enough to worry about without adding all their fucking drama to the mix.

It's not like this is a cozy Sunday night at Deb's for the whole family where everyone sits round with plates of pasta on their knees. It might not be a formal, sit down dinner but it's going to be classy. It has to be. We've invited some of Kinnetik's biggest clients, as well as people like Sydney Bloom and Justin's agent. Hell, the fucking mayor is planning to put in an appearance, and so is Justin's Senator pal.

So it's not going to be hi-jacked by Mikey's dramas or by Debbie serving everyone her fucking homemade tuna casserole.

 

*****
 

Justin

At least I've gotten some painting done in the last week. I would have got more done if I hadn't been fielding endless phone calls from both Michael and Debbie.

Well, okay, there weren't all that many, but I don't know how many times I have to tell them that no, we do not need their help to set things up for the party, before they get the message.

I don't want to be mean to them, but this party is a really big deal for us, and I want it to happen the way we've planned and not to have Deb and Michael derail it. It's important to us that we get to make a statement about us, about who we are together and how our lives are going to be.

And there are going to be some important people there. Not just important like Mayor Deekins (who was invited because he helped smooth the way with the Babylon reconstruction, and who accepted because he knows fucking well who helped him into office) and Senator Baxter who has always kind of stayed in touch since when I was back in school and who emailed me to congratulate me on being offered a chance to exhibit at the Warhol; so I kind of thought it would be nice to invite her. Besides, I want her to remember all her promises to vote the right way if any stuff about the gay marriage crops up.

Brian's also invited a few Kinnetik clients. Not many, and only those that he feels like he's got a strong relationship with – like Larry Remson and Leo Brown, oh, and Kellie McQuaid who pretty much forced Eyeconics to sign up with Brian once she was confident that Kinnetik was "viable" – whatever the fuck that means.

Charis, my agent, is flying in from New York and Sydney Bloom is coming; so is Stephane, since Brian and I both figure we owe him big time for getting things done so well, and in such a short space of time. Oh, and Marty – but I don't know if he's coming as Marty or Marilyn. I guess we'll find out.

Daph is coming of course, and so are a couple of my cousins, who live in Harrisburg, but didn't disown me like some of the family, when I came out, plus I've invited a few friends that I made at PIFA as well as a couple of my old professors.

Oh, and Darren's coming (as Darren, not as Shandra) and the guy who's been managing Babylon, and a couple of Brian's partners in that.

Well, and Ted and Blake, of course; plus Cynthia and her partner, and some of the senior Kinnetik staff.

Brian even invited his mother.

But he also told her that there were going to be a lot of gay people there and that if she felt uncomfortable with that she would maybe prefer to come on Sunday when we're going to be having Gus's friends over. So that's what she's going to do.

My Mom is coming, of course. With Tucker. And Molly will be here.

I agonized for a while (Brian threw around a lot of 'drama queen' comments) over whether to invite my Dad, but I decided I didn't want the day spoilt with his crap. So I didn't.

I feel kind of bad about that, but this is my home … our home … mine and Brian and Gus's. Why would I want anyone with his hateful fucking attitudes anywhere near the place?

It's different with Brian's Mom. She's at least trying.

I mean, she'd probably still have a cow if she came on Saturday night and Marty turned up as Marilyn, but at least she's trying to accept Brian and I as a couple. On Monday night she even went to a PFLAG meeting with my Mom. That's amazing. Darren's sister was there, and apparently she was telling them both about how much my support meant to Darren when he got bashed (which is totally rubbish, all I did was try to persuade him to take the guys to court – like that would have done any good). But it gave Joanie a chance to hear from someone kind of neutral about just how hate-filled some people can be towards gays, and Mom said that on the way home she told her about my bashing. She said Joanie was really shocked.

Which kind of doesn't mean much, in one way. But on Wednesday when I got home there was a card in the mail from Joanie, and in it she apologized; she said that she felt that her attitude had given support to the people who hurt me – not just the "boy who hit you, but all the people who didn't see that he was properly brought to justice". And she apologized for that.

I know how hard that must have been for her, because I know how hard it would have been for Brian.

So I called her and thanked her and …

She sounded on the phone like she was trying not to cry. Like she really understood how horrible everything had been and how every person who upholds that kind of hatred is contributing to the pain, and she truly felt bad that she'd been one of them.

Like I said, she really does seem to be trying.

Maybe one day my Dad will do the same. But for now, he's who he is, and I'm who I am, and the two just don't go together very well. Especially when I've got not just Brian, but also Gus to consider.

So anyway, we want the party to be about us, not a version of one of Deb's Sunday dinners. And I guess in a way that makes me feel like Mikey when he was doing the 'hostess with the mostest' thing with Dr. Dave and the party they gave for the Senator. But at least we're still inviting Michael and Deb, well and Carl and Ben, of course; which is more than Michael did.

There will be quite a few people here, one way and another – both straight and gay; and I want, we both want, it to be relaxed and really special at the same time. Brian says that if the food and drink are good quality and there's lots of both, that people will feel like they've had a good time. I hope he's right.

The party is going to start in the late afternoon, so that everyone can actually see the house in daylight.

We'll have snacks and drinks laid out down in the pool area. If it's cold or wet, we can just close the glass panels so people will have a good view of the garden and the river, even if it's not warm enough to get out and enjoy them. We'll cover the pool itself. Dan and Billy had installed an awesome system that kind of slides out across the top of the pool and it's really strong so there won't be any risk of anyone falling through. (In fact, in the evening, after dinner, it will become a kind of temporary dance floor.) Of course, if the weather people are right for once and it's fine we'll keep the panels open so people can wander down through the garden. We've put up some extra benches down there, so there's plenty of places for people to sit.

The evening meal will be a buffet, because there will be so many people. But it will be laid out upstairs in the dining area and people can eat in there, or out in the main room under the windows.

If the food turns out as delicious as all the stuff we sampled, it should be great, and Emmett will have just two or three people serving and cleaning, so they will kind of hang in the kitchen when they're not passing stuff around and it won't be too crowded in there.

We’ve even put together a kind of slideshow using photos that Dan sent me when I asked him if he had any. Old photos of the house, and of him and Billy, and some of the renovations, and some of Brian and I – from the first one that got taken of us together at that GLC art show to some of us here at the house with Gus and on the boat and stuff. It goes for around half an hour altogether, and we'll just have it running on a loop in the media room so if anyone wants to have a look they can just wander in and out as they like.

The biggest dramas we've had for the last week have been about what photos to include, but we finally adopted a veto system – we each got to veto no more than five photos – and that worked. Brian tried to cheat by claiming some of the photos that he wasn't rejecting weren't being "vetoed" they just weren't very good, but I have my ways of dealing with that sort of shit, and after a very mild suggestion of a threat to his regular morning blow job, he backed off and we finally got the thing finished.

He took the final selection in to Kinnetik to get them to add music and they did a great job – some Cole Porter and Glenn Miller and that sort of stuff for the older photos and a whole bunch of songs that Brian and I have danced to for our bits.

The last part of the slideshow is actually a little vid clip that we shot the other night after Gus had gone to bed. It's us dancing under Billy's window to the song that Brian says was playing at my Prom when he danced with me. It's a bit hokey, I guess; but it's always going to be really special to me. It still hurts that I can't remember that dance, and although we never talk about it, I guess Brian knows that. So one night last week he brought up the song on his ipod and pulled me up to dance with him, saying that I could remember this dance instead. It was amazing dancing with him like that. I had no idea he could dance that way. I guess one of the reasons I've never been able to imagine that dance the way Daphne described it to me was just that I couldn't imagine Brian really dancing. But if the Prom dance was anything like as amazing as the other night, we must have been magic. He even dipped me. Anyway, I didn't know until we'd finished that he'd set up the video on his cell phone. It's not professional or anything, and sometimes we even move out of shot, but most of it is okay and whether by luck or by Brian's good judgment, the beginning and the bit where he dips me is captured perfectly.

I don't think he ever intended anyone else to see it, but it was too perfect not to include, so I made sure it was on the memory stick he took to Kinnetik with the rest of the stuff, and he didn't throw major dramas when they used it for the closing shots so I guess he either doesn't mind, or he figures that no one is going to stick around and watch the whole thing anyway.

And now the party is only two days away and I feel … nervous, but also amazing. Like Brian and I are really starting a life together as a couple.

It sounds so juvenile to say that it feels like we're really grown up now, but it does.

I just hope I don't let him down. He's left most of the party planning up to me, so I want it to go really well so he's not embarrassed in front of all these people.

Oh, well, I can worry about that later. Right now I have an appointment with the Warhol to show them my two paintings and see if they're happy with choosing one of them.

Fuck!

Did I say "grown up"? I'm kidding myself.

I feel totally out of my depth and I'm really glad that Charis was willing to fly in and attend the meeting with me. She was coming on the weekend anyway for the party, and said that it was "appropriate" for me to have representation when I was presenting my possible submissions to the gallery. She'll stay over till Sunday so she'll have time to scope out other galleries here in town, and I know she has a meeting with Sydney tomorrow. Plus she can see the other stuff I've been working on – well, except for the painting that I sent to Dan, and I'm not going to mention that. And she's going to look over the plans that we have for the loft and see if she has any advice about lighting and stuff. I have to meet her at my studio in about thirty minutes so I'd better get moving.

 

*****
 

Brian

He's practically hyper-ventilating when he calls.

I know he was fucking nervous about what the Warhol assholes were going to say about his paintings and at first all I hear is that they didn't want to choose either of them, and I'm wondering just what it would take to completely trash their reputations and expose them for the bunch of fucking heads-up-their-asses poseurs they must be when it finally penetrates that the reason they didn't want to choose was because they want to show both.

Fuck!

My own little genius.

Guess we really will have lots to celebrate this weekend.

All I have to do is to save him from being smothered by Deb and his Mom and of course Emmett. They'll all be all over him when they find out.

Seems like Charis also came armed with a cast iron contract for his show in New York in October, so we can finally break the news to the family about that as well. And she's strong-armed the Warhol into an agreement that any sale they might make of the two paintings will be conditional upon them being available for the New York show as well.

That's fucking huge, actually.

If the paintings get a good reception, and both the Warhol and Charis seem to think they will, that will help create a great fucking buzz about the New York show. It also means that there are two less paintings that he has to worry about producing.

They're on their way to his studio now to go through what he's been working on.

Then they're going to have some lunch and after that go on to the loft so he can let her see the place that he's actually going to be working in as soon as it's finished (which better be in the next couple of weeks or there will be blood stains on those beautiful polished boards).

I plan on meeting them there. I want to hear for myself what she's got to say, and not get the filtered version that he thinks is fit for my ears, or at least fits in with whatever idea he's got about cutting costs on the fucking refurb.

 

*****
 

Justin

I'm watching out for the car, so as soon as it pulls into the garage, I head out to the Jacuzzi. By the time he comes into the house, everything is set. There are no lights on anywhere except in here, so it doesn't take him long to track me down.

He walks in and I jump on him.

"I wanna fuck!" I tell him.

I'm naked, and my cock is already hard, just thinking about him, so he kind of gets the message that I mean business.

We don't even make it into the water, he just pushes me up against the tub and magics condom and lube from somewhere like he always does and then he's pushing into me. I'd had a butt plug up my ass until the car pulled in, so I'm open and ready for him and the first fuck is just hard and fast and kind of nasty and fucking amazing.

It's typical of Brian that even when he's disposing of the condom and helping me strip off his clothes he still doesn't ask all the questions anyone else would about where's Gus and all that shit. Melanie and even Debbie and Michael would say that he just doesn't care, that all he wants is to get his cock serviced, but they really don't know him.

He cares, of course he cares, but he knows that I wouldn't be jumping his bones like this if Gus were in the house waiting for him to come home. So he knows that Gus is out somewhere, and that he's somewhere safe, and not expected back any time soon and he trusts me to have made sure of all that, so he doesn't waste time wittering on about it. He just lets all that shit go and gets down to business. Like we both want; like we both need.

Later, after we've soaked in the hot tub for a bit, I straddle him, kneeling either side of his thighs and he starts giving me a blow job, but the water's a little high to do it that way, so he makes me stand and that way he can go right down on me without risking death by drowning. He's obviously still not in the mood to go slow, and before I know it, I'm gripping his head so I can fuck his throat and then I'm coming and it's so fucking good.

We settle back down into the water, and that's when I pull out the drinks that I'd stashed ready earlier. Not champagne – we'll have that on Saturday, but for tonight, we celebrate with the Beam that's somehow more … us.

He tips his glass in a kind of salute towards me and I feel myself flushing, although I'll swear if I have to that it's just the heat and the exertion. He's grinning at me, with that tongue smooshed into his cheek look and I can tell he's happy for me. Even better, he's fucking proud of me. And he's letting me see it.

I feel myself grinning like an idiot back at him and we just sit for a minute, smiling at each other.

Somehow, all the twisty, thorny paths of our relationship have led us here to this moment. And I wouldn't trade one of those fucking thorns for roses because this is the best moment of my life so far. Not the moment when I heard I was going to have my own small show in New York; not the moment this morning when the Warhol people told me they loved my paintings and wanted to include them both in their exhibition; not even the moment when he proposed, or when I came home to him and he opened his arms and his life and his heart to me.

This moment.

Here in our home, just the two of us; together in a way that I'd hardly ever dared hope for.

I smile at him and answer the questions he hasn't asked.

"Gus is at my Mom's for a sleep-over. So I told Daph we didn't need her this evening."

He just smiles back, nods a little, and takes another sip of his Beam.

But I see something in him relax, and he lays back a little and stretches.

"So what are you going to feed me?" he asks.

I snort.

"You can order Thai or whatever," I tell him.

He grins again and somehow looks even prouder of me.

I snort again.

As if I can't recognize one of his little "have you turned into a house-frau?" tests.

Dick!

Then he stands up.

"Come on, Sunshine, you're going to get wrinkled."

 

*****
 

Brian

The lad's a genius.

If I'd thought about it for a week, I couldn't have found a better way to celebrate.

Not just celebrate his success, although fuck knows that's worth celebrating. But celebrating us; who we are. Who we can be. Who we're going to be … together.

My son is with his beloved Grandma, so I bet he's fucking delirious with joy. He adores Jenn, and not just because she spoils him a little. He just loves that he has his own Grandma who loves him.

The house is all ours for the next few hours, and I have my favorite playmate here to enjoy it with me.

We wrap up in robes and go to find the delivery menus. I hate over-heated houses, and fortunately he does too, so although we're halfway through Spring, it's still chilly enough at night to make the robes a good idea.

We debate the food choices for a while, but before we can order, I get distracted by him opening my robe. He pushes me to sit on the table, and pulls up a chair so he doesn't have to kneel on the slate floor and treats me to a simply masterful blow job. Even after I come, he keeps teasing my cock with his tongue and lips till I start getting hard again.

He hasn't shaved since this morning, and even though I still tease him about his practically invisible face fuzz, the truth is that I can feel the roughness of the bristles coming through his skin. Especially when he rubs his chin over my balls, and drags first one cheek and then another across the tip of my cock. It feels fucking amazing. Who'd want some smooth-cheeked chick when they could have this?

 

*****
 

Justin

He loves it when my face is a bit bristly and I use them on him.

And I love teasing him about it.

Right now, I've teased him just about enough for him to be ready to go again, which was my evil plan all along.

I get up and call our favorite Thai place, knowing that the half hour it will take for the food to get here will be just long enough for him to fuck me on the dining room table. We haven't christened that properly yet and it's time we did.

When I put down the phone, he's just doing up his robe, but I walk up and pull it open again, making sure that he's looking down into my eyes while I rub my face across first one and then the other of his nipples.

He gives one of those Brianesque almost silent huffs of a laugh and grabs me and turns me round. I'm puzzled when he reaches round to make sure my robe is tightly sashed, but when he pulls up the back and tucks it into the belt, completely exposing my ass, I understand.

I sashay into the dining area, making sure to sway my hips.

Another one of those huffs of silent laughter and he's after me.

He pushes me face down over the table.

"You're just playing with fire tonight, aren't you?"

I giggle. I can't help it.

Or maybe I don't try to.

For some fucked up reason, my giggles always seem to turn Brian on.

I'm kind of shocked, but not surprised, when I feel the hard slap of his hand across my right buttock. And then on my left.

There's a pause then while he seems to admire his handiwork.

Just thinking of how there must be this red imprint of his hand on my body makes my cock jerk like it figures we should be getting on with things.

His voice, when he speaks, is soft and kind of … I don't know … awestruck, or something. And sexy as Hell.

"I wish you could see how fucking hot you look sprawled there like that."

I feel the fingertips of each of his hands touching me gently, seemingly outlining the red patches on my ass.

Then there's a soft scraping noise, and I realize he's pulled up a chair so he can sit between my thighs.

His tongue replaces his fingertips.

And then it dips down between my ass cheeks and I sigh, anticipating bliss.

Brian rimmed me the first night, and it totally blew my mind. But I couldn't know then just how fucking good at it he is.

In the end, he doesn't even fuck me. When he's totally reduced every part of me except my cock to jello, he reaches under me and gives a couple of tugs and I come all over his hand, while his tongue is still up my ass.

Then, while I'm still floating way out of my body, the doorbell rings.

Shit! The take out. How the fuck am I supposed to eat after that?

 

*****
 

Brian

I remember to tighten my robe before I answer the door. I guess that means that I'm turning into some fucking suburbanite or something. But for all I know the delivery guy has a kid brother or sister who goes to school with Gus. For myself I don't give a fuck, but my kid doesn't need to deal with shit over something so fucking pointless.

By the time I pay the guy and take the food through to the kitchen, the little twat is starting to stir from his spot on the dining table. Pity. I was kind of fantasizing about eating Pad Thai off his ass.

But instead we take it through to the media room.

We have our usual argument over which movie to watch, and finally wind up putting on a couple of episodes of some cop show that he likes. If he tells me one more fucking time that the guy on it is the hot vampire from fucking Buffy I'm going to dump him out in the fucking pool.

I guess the guy has a certain something. On a slow night at Babylon, I'd fuck him.

But the fact that he played a fucking vampire is not a glowing recommendation, Sunshine.

The truth is, I don't give a fuck what's on the fucking screen. I'm mainly looking at him.

He's relaxed and so fucking happy he's glowing.

I'm trying not to think that this is how he could be all the time, if I hadn't saddled him with all the fucking responsibilities and restrictions of co-parenting my kid, when he says out of nowhere, "It's kind of nice to have the place to ourselves for a few hours, but isn't it quiet?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. By this time Gus would normally be in bed asleep anyway.

He gives a little shrug. "I miss him, I guess. Isn't that dumb?"

I grab him and pull him to lie back against me while I nuzzle into the spot behind his ear and then he turns his head so I can kiss him.

He's right.

It's great to be able to sprawl here half dressed and ready to fuck again at a moment's notice.

Although we've fucked just about everywhere in the house since we found out about the sound-proofing, we're always aware that little feet could come down the stairs at any minute. Or at least, little fucking hands could make themselves heard trying to undo the gate at the top of the stairs.

So this lying around with our robes undone and slipping off to show all the interesting bits is great; knowing no one is going to interrupt is great.

For a change.

For an evening.

But the truth is, I miss the third member of our little family too.

And I'm okay with admitting it.

How fucking amazing is that?

 

*****
 

Justin

So now it's the day of the party and I'm totally freaking out because Brian's not. And because Emmett's not. And because everything seems to be running smoothly.

And I know that I'm being irrational, but I can't fucking help it.

I'm sure I'm driving Brian crazy, and I wait for him to send me off to the supermarket to buy a whole bunch of stuff that we either already have or don't need just to get me out of the way.

But he doesn't.

After checking one more time with Em that he doesn't need us for anything, Brian tells me to get my jacket and "all that sunburn shit" and he goes to find Gus (who is 'supervising' in the kitchen) and once we make sure he has a warm jacket on, we all head out onto the river.

He's a genius.

It blows away all my nerves and reminds me that this is who we are.

Not the artist and the adman and the kid we are doing our best to bring up for a while.

But just Brian and Justin and Gus.

We share the feel of the wind in our face and the warmth of the Spring sunshine and laugh together over silly things and just generally have a great time.

We stop for an early lunch at the place we found when we took Mom and Joanie out together and by the time we get back there's just time for all of us to have a little "nap" before we need to get ready.

Gus zonks out as soon as we persuade him to lie down on his bed and cover him over, and although Brian and I don't sleep, we do find ways to relax and unwind that satisfy both of us and leave us looking … well, pretty much freshly-fucked, which I guess is totally appropriate for us, whatever anyone else might think.

We've just showered, and dressed and helped Gus into the pants, shirt and vest we bought him specially for tonight when the first of the guests arrives. It's Debbie, of course, but at least Brian's strategy of not texting her the address till we were drying off after our shower meant that she wasn't here at daybreak.

When I open the door, I'm wearing the suit we bought for the wedding and she looks at me and gets all misty-eyed.

"Oh, Sunshine," she says, "you look beautiful. Where's …"

But she doesn't get to ask "where's the asshole?" or whatever, because Brian is right there, and he bends and kisses her cheek.

"Welcome to our home, Ma," he says.

She chokes then and he lets her hug him, not even complaining that she's wrinkling his suit.

Then she hugs me, and I push aside the reservations I have about the way she and her son treat Brian and just remember how she took me in and did her best to mother me when my own mother lost her way a little.

I hug her back, and say softly into her ear, "Thanks for coming to celebrate with us, Deb."

 

*****
 

Brian

Our guests are all relaxing downstairs – either around the bar set up in the pool area, or down through the gardens. Justin and Gus are charming the pants off Leo Brown, Theodore and his little blond are chatting away to old man Remson about fucking opera of all things, while Kelly from Eyeconics is in the middle of some deep discussion about art with Sydney and Charis, so I decide it's safe to take a trip back into the house to make sure that the downstairs bathroom is still clean and stocked with everything necessary.

As I'm walking past the media room, I hear Michael making some remark to Darren about how fucking funny it is that I've turned into a total Stepford fag; just like the hetero-wanna-be's I've always despised. I'm about to shrug it off – like Mikey knows anything about the fucking life that Justin and I lead nowadays – when I hear an unexpected voice answer him, and then I can't resist wandering in to see the fun.

"Don't you think it's about time you shut up about all of that?" Daphne asks. As I walk in she moves to stand right in front of him, poking him in the chest. Mikey mightn't be a giant but he's still taller than Daphne, but somehow she seems to be towering over him.

I prop myself against the bar to watch the fireworks.

"Do you really think this is the time or the place to keep bringing up how different Brian's life is now to what it was before he met Justin, before Gus was born?"

Poke. Poke. Poke.

Mikey splutters and looks around for help.

Yeah, right. Like anyone with any sense is going to get between Daphne and her target.

"I want you to listen to me, you idiot. Listen carefully. This is a party to celebrate Brian and Justin moving into their first real home together."

It's actually the second if you count the mansion I bought for my prince, but I guess she never saw that.

"They have guests. Not just people like you, but clients and contacts. Justin's agent is here for goodness sake, so you … will … shut … your … mouth. Do you hear me?"

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I'm the one who will make you shut up. And if I can't, I'll summon help. Do you really want your mother and Justin's mother involved?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that it's pretty hypocritical of Brian to keep sneering at other couples when he's living in a house with his partner and a kid just like any other "Stepford fag"."

Then another voice chimes in and I seriously hope Mikey gets the message, because if there's one person I wouldn't want to tangle with where her son's happiness is concerned it's the woman who just walked in.

"So just what is it that you think makes Brian into a "Stepford fag"?" Jennifer asks with that WASP edge in her voice that would make anyone with any sense back right the fuck off. But this is Mikey we're talking about.

"Well, he's living in a nice house with a partner and a kid," Michael says. "It's so lame. He's doing what he's always sneered at Ben and I for doing?"

"What?" she asks. " Being there for his son? Making sure Gus didn't wind up in foster care when Lindsay couldn't take care of him?"

Jenn gives him this look like he's something slimy she's found in her salad.

"Just what do you think he should have done, Michael? Left Gus to fend for himself?"

"It's not about that," he persists, being not only moderately stupid but Novotny stubborn into the bargain. "He just shouldn't be sneering at other people doing the same thing?"

"Ah, yes," Daphne cuts in. "Because of course you know so many people who run multi-million dollar businesses that they've built up by their own brilliance and hard work without compromising one little bit of their integrity and who live with brilliant young artists who are about to have paintings displayed at the Warhol gallery. Oh, and who are, apparently from what Emmett tells me, still the hottest thing on the dance floor or in the back room of Babylon, whenever they choose to go there."

Before Mikey can respond to that one, Jenn is on the attack again.

"Do you really believe that the only ways Brian could avoid being a hypocrite are to either class himself with people like that dreary pair at the GLC who were so sycophantic to Jim Stockwell, or else go on his own happy way and abandon his son?

"You are sadly unimaginatve if that's what you think, believe me."

"He's my best friend," Mikey pouts, then he seems to register my presence and glares at me. "Are you going to let them talk to me like that?"

Daphne laughs. "Let us? Oh, please!"

Jenn smiles at him pityingly. "It's a little like suggesting that you "let" your mother express herself when she has something to say, Michael."

"And you're hardly Brian's best friend," Daph goes on.

I’m ready to leave now, because I'm starting to feel more than a little fucking embarrassed by this sudden eruption of my apparent fan club, but she grabs my arm, and then slides hers around my waist and gives me a little hug.

"Brian's real friends aren't standing around making snarky comments, or shit stirring about how much things have changed for him. His real friends are trying to help. Ted, Cynthia, even Emmett. They've all offered to babysit Gus anytime Jennifer and I aren't available so Brian and Justin can hit Babylon or just have some quiet time together. Debbie's actually done it a couple of nights. Don't think I've heard about you offering, though."

"I keep asking Brian to come out and have a drink," Mikey whines.

"Yeah, but that's not about helping Brian and Justin, is it? That's just about you wanting to spend some time with Brian when it suits you. I bet you've never even asked how they're managing … who picks Gus up from school and all that stuff."

"Well, Justin's not doing anything …"

Wrong move, Mikey.

"Actually, Michael," Jenn says and the WASP edge is even more pronounced now that her darling son has been dismissed so lightly, "Justin has been working hard producing something suitable for the Warhol exhibition."

Michael shrugs. "It’s not like he has to punch a clock or anything. He can play with his paints anytime. How tough can it be to finish early enough to pick up Gus?"

Okay, time to wind this up before blood is spilled.

I go to him and put my hands on his shoulders.

"Time to go see what Ben is up to," I advise him.

 

*****
 

Justin

I have to laugh later when Daph tells me about how she and Mom ganged up on Michael, but at the time I was too pissed to see the funny side.

He has seriously zero social skills. Anyone with even half a fucking live brain cell would know that a party where Brian and I both have important business contacts is not the place to try to stage re-runs of the fucking Brian and Mikey show, but that's what he spent the first half of the party doing.

Then the second half he's spent sulking, because after the little intervention with Mom and Daphne, he was stupid enough to go whining to Deb and she dragged him into the kitchen and gave him an earful on her own account. (Emmett gave me a very colorful summary.) Since then she's been watching him like a cat watches a mouse hole and every time he tries to open his mouth, she gives him one of her Deb looks and shuts him up again.

So he hasn't been allowed to disrupt things and everyone else seems to have had a good time, which means I need to put him out of my mind right now.

In the kitchen they're preparing to set out the first of the dinner courses; but before that we're getting everyone together in the great room under the windows so we can toast to our new home. And make a couple of other announcements. I don't really want to do that, but Brian says it's the ideal time, and he's right in a way … not because I want people to think that I'm making the evening about me and my career, but because it tells everyone that this is what we can do, together. It makes sure everyone knows that any success I might have as an artist doesn't depend on me being in fucking New York, it just depends on me being in the right head space to be able to paint, and that's more likely to happen when my physical space is pretty much anywhere that Brian needs to be. Right now, for a whole lot of reasons, that's Pittsburgh.

One day it might be New York, or even London or Paris or Tokyo. Who knows?

But right now, this is home.

Our first home, really. Brian let me in to share the loft with him, and we had those few days together when I first got home out at the mansion, and those memories will always be really precious to me, but this is the first home we've moved into knowing that it's the place where we're going to be building a future together.

When everyone is gathered around, and Em's minions have made sure that everyone has a glass to toast us with – including sparkling apple juice for Gus, Ted and Blake, Brian and I step to the front and stand together under Billy's windows.

Everyone waits for him to say something, but we've agreed that I'll do this first part. I take a deep breath, then I feel Brian's hand on my back and suddenly it's like I'm ten feet tall and fucking invincible.

"Hi everyone," I say, and to my amazement, my voice isn't even shaking. "We've asked you here to help celebrate with us this huge step in our lives of moving into our first real home together. This beautiful house was pretty much created by the two men who lived here before us – Daniel Dickinson and William Arkwright."

I gesture upwards. "Billy designed and made the amazing window above us and Dan's engineering expertise made it possible to create this wonderful space to set it in.

Before we move on to the other toasts, I'd like to ask you to raise a glass to them. They lived through very difficult times, especially for gay men, and they not only endured them, they flourished; they lived together for over fifty years, many of them in this house. So as we take up the challenge of doing even better, we would like to honor them."

I raise my own glass. "To Dan and Billy," I say firmly.

We've arranged to have this part of the evening captured on vid and we'll send it to Dan. I want him to know how much we appreciate the precedent they've set us. I want him to know, I guess, that we love him, we love them. Even if we never got to meet Billy. And that as long as Brian and I are alive, he and Billy will never be forgotten.

Once everyone has drunk that toast, I take another breath and go on.

"Brian and I are still arguing about exactly how long we've been together." That makes everyone who really knows us laugh, and I grin myself to let them all know I'm okay with it. "But however long it is, this move marks a new stage in our relationship.

"We've invited you here to celebrate with us, not just our new home, but also the fact that it represents a conscious commitment from both of us that we are planning to make a future together."

Brian and I have gone over and over exactly what we want to say this evening, and how we want to say it. We're not going to present ourselves as the embodiment of what anyone else might see as "married", but we are together, we're committed now to building a life together, and as long as we keep reinforcing that commitment we're going to be fine, whatever anyone else thinks.

So I smile around at everyone and say, "Some of you might be a little surprised, maybe even shocked at how we choose to live out that commitment. We're probably never going to be a conventional kind of couple. But make no mistake, we are as committed to being together as any other couple you know. We might just have a different definition of what that means."

This is where Brian steps in.

"For us, what it means is that we put each other, and my son Gus, first. We work out ways to be together that don't involve one or other of us giving up something important that we want to do or to be. If we run into situations where our careers or our ambitions seem to be pulling us in different directions, we'll need to find creative ways to resolve those situations.

"But we are completely committed to finding solutions that allow us to grow, while at the same time also allow us to remain together - not just in theory like it was when Justin was in LA and New York, but toughing out all the day to day shit together year in, year out. And enjoying all the fringe benefits."

He pinches my ass and everyone laughs, including me.

"That's what this house represents to us. It represents a way to creatively live out our commitment to each other that being together trumps any other apparent 'opportunities' that might arise."

My turn again, so I stifle a petty wish that Lindsay especially had been here to hear that.

"So now we'd like you to raise your glasses again in a toast to our new home."

There's applause and a chorus of Brian and Justin's new home or Justin and Brian's new home, or whatever (I think I hear one Taylor-Kinney reference in there somewhere).

Before everyone thinks we're done and starts to move away, Brian holds up his hand.

"The food is being laid out and it smells almost as good as it should for the fucking price we paid for it, so we don't want to hold things up too long, but I do have one other thing to say.

"I know there are some who might think that in moving back here to not-so-very-glamorous Pittsburgh, Justin is sacrificing an opportunity to make it big in the art world.

"Well, just to put your minds at rest …

"Some of you know already that he's been asked to submit a work to be included in an exhibition at the Warhol in July. Well, he actually completed two, but when he submitted them, they couldn't choose, so they've asked if they can show both of them."

There's applause and shrieks (from Daphne) and a 'you go, girl," from Emmett, but Brian holds up his hand again while I stand here blushing.

"Also his agent, the lovely Charis, who is with us this evening, came to Pittsburgh armed with his contract for a small solo show at a very prestigious gallery in New York in October."

There's silence for a moment, and then pandemonium seems to break out.

We've been keeping the solo show secret all these weeks since I've been back until we had a definite contract. I hadn't even told Mom.

So now she's hugging me, and Deb's trying to get to me, and Daph is hugging Brian and it's all just a little bit mad.

But I look up into Brian's eyes and I don't think I've ever seen him look like this. He's proud of me, that's fucking obvious. But he's proud of us too. That somehow against all the fucking odds we've hung in there and made this moment happen. And … he's so fucking happy that every atom of him seems to be glowing with it. His eyes are shining and he can't wipe the grin off his face. He picks Gus up, because Gus has picked up on the fact that everyone else is hugging us, so he wants his chance and I turn and wrap my arms round both of them.

I've had many incredible moments with Brian, and I'll hopefully have a lot more. But I will never forget this one, and something tells me that we're going to be celebrating it for a long time to come.

"Come on, everyone," I tell them, the friends and family, colleagues and clients that we've invited here to share this moment with us. "Let's eat!"
 

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