Reverberations

Chapter 12

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Brian

I'm glad that I brought the fucking camera. If anyone had been there to see, snapping that photo might have made me look like a total loser, but catching that expression on his face would have been almost worth it.

He was all "you didn't!" when instead of making for the car after dinner, I steered him past the reception desk to the elevators. He was excited and a bit giggly while we rode up, ready to make out in front of anyone who was lucky enough to share the ride with us, and wanting to know when I'd checked in (during a toilet break, while I demanded `now, faster' from the reception staff and not in a good way).

But when he walked into the room and saw the huge fucking spa bath he just lit up like … there aren't words. There's not a cliché on the fucking planet that could convey how amazing he looks when I finally get it right.

For a moment, I thought there was going to be a full on attack of allergies. Then he seemed to switch gear, as if the idea of what the two of us could get up to in that spa suddenly got through, and sweet, sentimental little Sunshine was just swept away by him, Justin. Justin at his hot, horny, uninhibited best.

See, this is what our "family" doesn't get, because they don't ever see him like this. They don't see him flushed and panting and demanding - demanding to be satisfied, demanding to be fucked.

I suspect that no one else has seen this Justin. I suspect that this Justin only gets released when his fucking emotions and his libido collide and they're both so intense that they pretty much drive him out of his mind. Out of his nice, safe WASP control zone, anyway, so that he lets go of all his inhibitions and gives himself totally over to what he's feeling. And I have to figure that that pretty much only happens with me. It never happened all the times I've seen him with anyone else, anyway; and I just can't believe that the fiddler ever drove him to the edge like that; turned him into some kind of feral wild man who bites and claws, grunts and squeals; past control, past being able to form thoughts, let alone words. A total wild man.

I guess it's all too fucking ironic that for me it's exactly the opposite. What happens when my emotions line up with my sex drive and force me to lose all my inhibitions is … tenderness; so that time itself seems to slow down to give me the chance to caress every part of him, to ache over the taste of his skin on my tongue, and lose myself in the scent of his hair - what he'd call "making love". And that sure as fuck only happens with him.

Tonight there'll be time for all of that, and everything in between; enough to satisfy us both.

He's on the phone right now, calling down for more food, like we didn't just eat a couple of hours ago. He says he's burned it all off and needs more fuel. I think he just wants to enjoy being able to order room service.

But who gives a fuck? He's happy. He fucking vibrates with it. He loved doing it in the hot tub, sitting over the jet to let it play on his balls and his ass, then opening up for me with only the water as lubricant. Rocking on me, slow and easy, hard and fast, and other variations on a theme. All the while with the hot water buoying us both up and keeping us slick and slippery, so it was hard to keep hold of each other, except where his ass was clamped round my cock and my tongue explored his back teeth.

He seemed to like it on the bed, too, where he clawed scratch marks all down my fucking back while my dick tried to find his back teeth from the inside, pushing so far up into him even I got worried. Not him though. He just dug his nails into my ass, and demanded more.

No matter what our little family might think little Sunshine wants or needs, the simple truth is that Justin is a man born to fuck. He likes down and dirty sex as much as I do; and when it's fueled by all the things that are between us - all the passion and tenderness, the pain and the fear and the anger and the joy and the need …then it's fucking explosive. Or so tender it makes me ache inside. Or both - sometimes at the same time. It's everything I've avoided my whole life and now I can't imagine life without it; don't want to imagine it. Don't have to – I've come close to losing it too many times. So now I just enjoy it while I've got it, make the most of every moment of it. It's the best sex I've ever had; ever will. And I'm damned sure it's the same for him.

He's off the phone now, and he comes to join me where I'm lounging on the bed. He's got that well-fucked look that makes his skin glow and his eyes are … they're amazing. So fucking bright they could light up most of Pennsylvania.

He brushes his mouth across mine, then settles beside me.

"You have the best fucking ideas," he says.

I grin at him.

I do. Sometimes I really do.

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Justin

He's unbelievable. For all the times he can be a total dick, there are just as many that he comes through big time.

Most times, really.

Most times I really need him to, anyway.

But tonight was a stroke of genius, even for him.

We've never fucked in a hot tub before, and it was … well, hot. Really hot. And not just the water temperature.

But what made it beyond hot, what is making this whole evening sizzle for me, is that he made this whole thing happen just for me. He could have just stayed home with me and fucked me into the mattress. That would have been easy, and more than enough to reassure me that I'm important, that my feelings are important; it would have been enough to make me forget all the shit from last night, and the messages they've all been leaving today.

But Brian did so much more than that. He listened to me. Really listened – both to what I said, and to all the things I didn't say, could never say, about how tired I am of the way his so-called friends keep fucking with our lives. He listened to me babbling about how much I was looking forward to a long hot bath, like that was some sort of magic cure that was going to make all the shit go away and instead of shrugging it off, and relying on his ability to fuck me senseless being enough (which it probably would have been), he took what I'd been saying and made it a million times better by bringing me here. Here where I could have a great meal (the Kahlua flan was fantastic); here where I could enjoy not just a bath, but a spa tub, one that I could share with him. And, if that wasn't enough, he brought me to somewhere where for once it's just us.

No fucking phone calls. No one to burst in through the door anytime they fucking feel like it. Just us.

Like it was this afternoon.

At that thought, I turn my head to meet his eyes. He's lying on his side, facing me, propped up on his elbow. He's got his tongue in his cheek, one eyebrow raised, and his eyes have a slightly mocking glint.

Just looking at him, I can feel my cock stirring again, something I would have bet wasn't going to happen any time soon, but that's the Brian effect.

"Peaceful here," I say.

The mocking look becomes more obvious, but now there's a hint of mischief in there as well. There's something in this he finds amusing, and it's a joke he thinks I'll share.

"How many people do you think have been to the loft?" I ask. I'm so onto him.

The look of amused mischief deepens further. He shrugs a little. "Who the fuck cares?"

I roll up onto my elbow and reach my other hand to touch his chest. "You're a fucking genius," I tell him. He is.

I rub my foot against his, and let my fingers wander over his nipples. He collapses back onto the bed, pulling me on top of him.

"We deserve a fucking break," he growls. Our eyes meet for a moment in another shared joke - a fucking break, that's what it's turning out to be, all right. Then our mouths meet and our tongues tangle together, and then … there's a rap at the door.

I jump like a mile, and Brian raises that eyebrow again.

"It's only the fucking food, Sunshine," he says, pointing out the obvious.

My heart settles back in place and I give him a wobbly grin while I get up and pull on at least enough clothes to be able to answer the door.

He condescends to at least pull on his pants, even if he doesn't bother doing them up completely.

The room service waiter gives us both the sort of look I'm used to getting when I'm with Brian. He's pretty hot. If Brian wants to, I wouldn't mind. But Brian just signs and waves for him to leave, while I work out what I want to eat now, and what I ordered to share with him later, one way or another.

But all the time I'm fighting back the shakes, and I realize how fucking sure I was that they'd somehow tracked us down.

It was just for a moment, but for that moment I was really scared. I need tonight. Just tonight. Away from them, all of them. Tomorrow, I'll be ready to deal again. But tonight I need …

I need this.

I need us.

I need it to be just us.

I need that more than I could have fucking guessed. But somehow he knew. Knew it even before I did; so he brought us here, where he could make sure I got what I needed.

I guess he's on to me too.

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Brian

He nearly jumps out of his fucking skin when the knock comes at the door, and that's when it really hits home how much he must have been dreading the hordes descending on us. I guess I was too. Maybe that's one of the reasons that I wanted to get us both out of everyone's reach for a while - both this afternoon, and tonight; because I'm tired of us having to deal with all their shit in our own fucking living room.

Linds expects me to "call ahead" if I want to drop by to see Gus. Mel used to want me to book an appointment at least a week in advance. Mikey's indicated to everyone, including his fucking mother, that we should all wait for an invitation to visit him in Dicklessfagville, not just drop in when we feel like it. But all of them somehow figure it's okay to just charge over to the loft every time they want to ream me out about something. And if I don't answer the fucking door, they use the keys and codes I gave them for emergencies to let themselves in anyway. God forbid I should ever be entitled to any privacy.

But now it's not just my privacy they're invading. Justin has a right to feel safe from being harangued in his own fucking home.

Tomorrow, I'll get the locks and the codes changed. For tonight, we're safe here.

I sign for the food, and hang the "Do Not Disturb" notice before I shut and lock the door. No one knows we're here, and we left our cells at home. (I have the emergency beeper I got for Gus. If there's a real emergency with him, Linds can reach me. She knows better now than to use it for anything else. She did that once - paged me for some fucking shit that was only urgent in what passes sometimes for a brain in that blonde skull of hers. She'll never do it again.) Anyway, there won't be any phone calls here to either sympathize, or tell us what a pair of selfish shits we are, or just poke their noses into our fucking business as usual.

So - hatches battened down, and all fucking access secured, I turn back to him. He seems to have gotten over his little scare all right and he's feeding his face with something that should have him on the treadmill for a week if there was any fucking justice in the world. I guess he figures he should make the most of that freaky metabolism of his that lets him eat anything without gaining an ounce, because he takes every opportunity to test out if it's still working.

I take a look at what else he's ordered and can feel irritation building in direct correlation with the lust. He seems to have a whole fucking heap of cream or custard filled goodies and I can guess how he's going to tempt me into eating them.

What about `no carbs after seven' does he not understand?

He knows fucking well I'll give in, too, the little shit.

He looks at me now, his eyes going between my groin and a custard filled cannoli. Fuck! I'm doomed. I guess all I can do is try to take him down with me.

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Justin

Last night was so amazing that when I finally checked my messages this morning, and there was one from Lindsay asking me to come and see her at the gallery, I was just excited at the thought of the opening Friday night.

She'd asked me to come before eleven, but it's almost that when I get there. What can I say? Brian didn't make his 9 am finance meeting, either.

She seems annoyed when I walk in and looks pointedly at her watch. She also seems somehow a little nervous, but at first I put that down to what she's got to say.

Apparently, there's been some sort of mix up and she doesn't think they'll have enough space to hang any of my stuff after all.

I have to fight to swallow down my disappointment, and not take it personally, so at first I don't realize that she's veered off on a tangent, babbling on about how stressed she is over the whole thing. I'm thinking how fucking typical it is that having just snatched away my first show in a real gallery, she's trying to get me to feel sorry for her, when she starts on about how Brian's making her even more stressed by how he's being about Gus.

She pauses to let that sink in, and then says, "Justin, I'd never ask you to try to influence Brian, but …"

Hello? May be blond, but I'm a long way from being stupid.

What the fuck is this? I'm about to ask her point blank whether she's trying to blackmail me into helping her gut Brian, and whether, if I do, she'll magically find room in the show for me, when the door opens and her boss, Sydney, walks in.

He's all smiles as soon as he sees me, which even then strikes me as weird. Lindsay, however, looks like she's swallowed a fucking cow.

"Justin!" he says, reaching out both hands to shake mine. "I'm so glad Lindsay managed to reach you. This is an excellent opportunity for you. And for us, of course. We're very confident that adding one or two more of your pieces to the show will prove very popular with our clientele."

I look at Lindsay who's gone the weirdest shade of red ever. She looks scared and furious all at the same time. Well, she's not the only one who's furious, and she should be fucking scared.

I look her full in the eyes as I respond to Sydney, "Lindsay hasn't actually told me about wanting more pieces."

I pause, and let the silence fall heavy for a moment before I turn to Sydney and go on enthusiastically, "I just got here. But it sounds exciting."

I'm not above flattering the customer - something I learned from Brian. Sydney buys it, because he beams and rubs his hands together.

"Excellent, excellent! When one of our other artists fell through, you were the first person I thought of."

I doubt that, but it doesn't matter. He's not only keeping my pieces in the show, he wants more. My mind races. I'll never get the new painting finished in time, but I've got a couple of others that I'm happy with. One huge one that I could only paint because having the studio meant that for the first time I actually had the space to do something like that; and having that freedom somehow brought things pouring out of me that I hadn't hoped to be able to tap into. I cross my fingers and hope that he's interested in that one, because I'm really proud of it, and I think it makes a strong statement about where my art is these days. Lindsay had originally said they wouldn't have room to hang it, but now, maybe …

Of course, it's a major bonus that he's also given me something I can hold over Lindsay's head.

"Let's have a cup of coffee, and talk about it," Sydney says. "Lindsay, would you mind?"

He takes me off to this office, and leaves Lindsay to fetch the coffees.

"Cream, no sugar," I tell her over my shoulder as I walk off with her boss. Let her fucking sweat for a while over what we're talking about.

Sydney is enthusiastic when I describe the two pieces and I arrange for him to come over to the studio to see them this afternoon.

But all the time I'm talking to him, I'm trying to work out whether I should tell Brian what Lindsay tried to do.

I've made it a rule to try never to interfere between Brian and his friends, not even all the times Mikey was such a prick to me. But this is different. This isn't really about me. This is about how far Lindsay is willing to go to manipulate Brian's relationship with his son. Once I realize that, I know I have no choice. No matter how much it hurts him (and it will), I have to fucking tell him.

So while I smile and make nice to Sydney, inside I'm raging. Lindsay sends someone else in with the coffee. Just as well. I would have a hard time not throwing it in her face. Not like it would have mattered that much. After all, she's got another one.

Bitch!

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Brian

How fucking ironic is it that after years of believing Mikey and Linds were my friends, the ones I could count on, they're the ones who are doing everything they can to fuck me over. While Ted and Emmett, whom I once would have dismissed as just hangers on - especially Ted - they're the ones who are really coming through for me. And for Justin.

I wasn't all that surprised when he told me what Lindsay had done. I mean, I would have been shocked that she'd go so far as to put his career at risk, but the fact is she would have had to put his stuff in the show no matter what he did about her little bit of blackmail, so she wasn't actually doing that. And of course she didn't think about how badly she might have hurt him, because fucked if it seems to matter to anyone how either of us actually feels about anything.

That's what pissed me off the most - not how manipulative she was being - I've always known that about her, even admired it in some ways; but that she's taken to extending the whole "Brian doesn't have actual feelings, so it doesn't matter how you treat him" attitude on to Justin. That's a fucking load of bullshit!

The problem is that I don't know how to tackle it.

Neither does he.

We've both somehow just got through the last couple of days with minimal contact with anyone. Well, except for Ted and Emmett, who've both … been there for us. (And saying that is enough to make me want to fucking puke, but I don't know how else to put it.)

Ted's taken on the whole thing about sorting out the reprinting of the comic and has nagged and hassled as only an accountant could to get it done by tomorrow night.

And Emmett has been spending time with Justin, giving him someone he can vent to, and just generally making sure that he knows he's still got some friends he can fucking count on. Fuck! The Party Queen even came up and gave me a hug when we dropped in at Woody's last night. Like I needed some sort of fucking encouragement or some shit.

Justin, at least, is still on a high, despite all the drama, thanks to good ol' Sydney. Seems Syd "adored" Justin's new pieces - especially the fucking huge one that was the first thing he painted in his damned studio. Loved it. He even asked Justin why he hadn't offered it to Lindsay originally. Seems he got all prune-faced when Justin said he had, but Ms Peterson had said they wouldn't have space to hang it.

Maybe she'll get her ass reamed by her boss for that little piece of bullshit. One can only hope.

I'd like to do a little of that myself, but it's back to the usual fucking shit of having to deal with her about Gus. I know Justin thinks I should do something about that, stake some sort of claim, but …

It's not like I think I'm ever going to be in the running for Father of the Year. Or that I'm like Mikey and want joint custody. I just need to be sure that I can see Gus sometimes; that he'll know he has a father; that he …

I don't want Gus to ever doubt that he's got a father who loves him. I want him to grow up knowing that I might not be around every day, but that I will always, always, fucking be there if he needs me.

I know the sort of shit Mel says about me; and I know Linds has never made any real effort to stop her saying all that in front of Gus. I need to see him sometimes so he fucking knows that it's not all true. I may be an asshole. I may be the most selfish prick on the planet. But I love him. He needs to know that.

I don't want my son to grow up wondering why his father can't love him.

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Justin

Things have been weird the last couple of days. I feel like we've been living in a little bubble. They've all stopped calling. I guess they finally got it that we're not going to answer the messages. I've had coffee with Em a couple of times. This morning Daph came too and Em was telling us about the spin that Michael's been putting on what happened on Saturday night. Apparently I've been really stressed over the comic launch and just threw a major DQ hissy fit. Michael was only trying to keep me calm and he asked Brian to help, so Brian decided he should get me out of there.

Talk about revisionist history!

Daph was in hysterics and the three of us got into making up Michael-ized versions of all sorts of stuff, from Julius Caesar's assassination to the overthrow of Sauron from LOTR – all of them with the theme of "they were just trying to calm him down". Okay, it was beyond silly. But it made me feel much better.

God bless Em!

Oh, and then he gave Brian a huge hug in the middle of Woody's last night. I thought Brian would have conniptions. But instead he got this look like he would have had the biggest smile on his face if he dared let go of his image for half a minute; and he actually hugged Em back. Well, he put his arms around him for like a micro second, and didn't pull away anyhow. Em knew he'd been hugged, anyway, because afterwards he looked a little bit weepy, but he also seemed to be standing tall at the same time; like Brian had somehow rewarded him, and made him feel proud to be our friend. It's such a weird thing that Brian, the man everyone berates for what a self centered prick he is, can really make people feel so good about themselves.

Ted too.

Ted's been amazing.

He got all the stuff with the printers sorted; they're even committed to delivering the revised copies on time tomorrow morning. Apparently they didn't have a sign off sheet for the changes Michael made, so Ted read them the riot act, and made them believe it was at least partly their fault. I was in the office when he was calling them, and by the time he'd finished with them they were probably ready to agree to anything just to get him off the phone.

More importantly than that, though, he's been there for Brian. Not saying anything much, I don't think (he probably wouldn't dare actually say anything), but letting Brian know that he's got his support in little ways – like telling off their new office boy when he brought Brian cappuccino instead of latte, and saying that he should make sure that he looked after his boss better than that because they all rely on Brian for their pay checks. It doesn't sound much, but I was there when it happened, and Ted wasn't being sarcastic or anything, he was letting Brian know how much he's appreciated and admired, and doing it in a way that Brian could accept.

Brian would never say anything, either, of course. But I know that it means a lot to him that he's got Ted's support. When Ted arrived at Woody's Brian went straight to the bar and bought him a drink. It was only sparkling water (Ted's still not drinking alcohol), but when he gave it to Ted, Brian mumbled something like `it should be single malt', so Ted got the message. Ted sort of blushed, and looked all flustered when he took it, so he obviously got what Brian was telling him about how grateful he is, even if Brian can't actually say anything like those words.

So, in some ways the past two days have been okay. Much better than I would have expected. But in others …

I told Brian about Lindsay. I had to. He got this look … angry and helpless all at the same time, and I know it's because he's frustrated, maybe even ashamed, because he feels like Lindsay has so much power over him. It's not good, this situation with Gus. Somehow we've got to find a way to …

Well, Brian has to. It's not really up to me. I can only support him. Like he has me over the last few days.

He's been amazing at that. He hasn't caved at all to Michael, which he always would have before. I don't mean he would have said that what Michael did was okay, but he would have let it slide, and found some sort of excuse to call him. And that, to me, would have felt like some sort of betrayal, even though that's not how Brian would have meant it. He would have just needed things to be okay with Michael so much that he just had to forget what Mikey had done. Not this time though. This time I know Brian is putting me first, and I can't believe the difference it's made in how I feel about the whole thing. He even said he'd put off his trip to Chicago to meet with Leo Brown on Thursday so he could come with me to the fundraiser tomorrow night.

But I made it clear that I don't need or even want him to do that.

He's promised to be back for the gallery opening on Friday night and that's the main thing. That's what's really important to me.

The fundraiser hardly matters, even if we are launching the Rage marriage issue. I was serious when I told Michael there wouldn't be any more Rage. I won't work with him again, and, after the stunt he pulled with this issue, I don't trust him any more. I have no idea what he'd do with the story lines, and I don't trust him not to use the comic, use the characters with our faces, to push his own little agendas. So if he tries to go on with a new artist I'll sue him for everything he's got. Brian or no Brian.

I'll put in an appearance at the fundraiser, mainly because I'm not going to let all of them think that I care enough about them to let them keep me away. But I don't need Brian to hold my hand. There'll be other people there anyway. Daph can't make it because she's got an exam the next day, but Em will be there, and Mom (even though she'll probably have Tucker with her). So I'll be fine.

In fact, Brian being there would only make things worse, because I'd have to spend the whole night trying to stop him spouting his whole anti-marriage thing and upsetting everyone. And he would. He couldn't resist. Confronted with all the sanctimonious shits from the GLC, like Tanis and her friends, he'd just lose it; and the worst thing is that I'd wind up siding with him, because I'm so tired of them all. I mean, of course I think we should have the right to get married if we want to. That's only justice. And I'm prepared to fight for that right.

But I also think we should have the right not to want to get married without anyone carrying on as if not being married is some kind of major indicator that you're a loser with no right to consider yourself a mature adult in a "mature" relationship.

Fuck that!

People who think that way are no better than the homophobes. You can't demand equality and advocate tolerance of your lifestyle but then sneer at other people who don't happen to share your values; or act as if your values and beliefs somehow make you superior to people who don't see things the same way. That's exactly what the homophobes do, and it's fucked.

The truth is most of the "married" couples at the GLC haven't been through anything like the challenges that Brian and I have survived. Between his parents abusing him, and the damage that did to him; my father disowning me, and the dint that put in my self worth; the bashing, and the physical and emotional after effects of that; the cancer, and the physical and emotional after effects of that; Ethan, and the whole LA thing … we've survived more than most of them put together, and we're still here. Our relationship has its shaky moments, but we somehow keep holding on, and we're getting stronger. Most of their "mature" relationships would have crumbled under half the load we carry.

But, because we won't stand up and swear that we'll only ever fuck each other, they say we don't have a "real" relationship.

Well, fuck them!

I haven't told Brian, but they wouldn't even put me on the organizing committee for the fundraiser. They didn't actually give me a reason why, but Ben told Michael, who told Emmett, who told me … it's because my relationship with Brian is so "equivocal" and not a good example of what they're fighting for. Because of course, only "perfect" gay couples are affected by the marriage rights issue; like the issue isn't about trying to overcome institutionalized homophobia, it's about playing happy families in front of the rest of the world.

What a load!

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Brian

I wish to fuck I didn't have to go to Chicago tonight. If I could have I'd have put the meeting with Brown Athletics back to the afternoon, then I could have caught a morning flight tomorrow. But the meeting's due to start at 9am and it's likely to last most of the day. Leo was in town a week or so ago and I presented an outline for a new campaign for them; he liked it and now we need to go through it in detail to line up all the different strands – TV, radio spots, print media, some online stuff, and, of course, the selection of the new personality, now that he's been scared off Drew. Part of me wants to tell him what a homophobic prick he was over that, but the truth of it is Drew's outing himself might hurt sales. It's wrong, but it's also a commercial reality.

It's not like Leo's selling designer suits – it's sportswear, and the redneck factor is huge in that market.

So … I need to take a flight tonight. But I have a very bad feeling about it. I don't like the thought of leaving Justin without back up. I know that his mommy will be there, but she doesn't have a clue about all the shit that's been going on. Don't get me wrong, I know from personal experience that Ma Taylor would have no hesitation in going for the jugular if she thought anyone was giving her little boy a bad time, but she doesn't know how someone as "nice" as Lindsay can operate, and everyone is always fooled by Michael's fucking puppy dog eyes into thinking he's harmless. He could always turn those eyes onto people and make them forget any shit he'd got up to so they'd turn all the blame onto me. Always.

At least the thing's going to be at Babylon now. Justin will be on home turf, and Ted has instructions to make sure that all the staff – especially the security people – look out for him. Anyone who gives him grief is going to find him – or her – self out on their ass.

We both had a good fucking laugh last night over that. Over the fact that having given us all that shit, they had to send Mikey in, cap in hand, to beg me to let them use my unhallowed fucking club – the place they all sneer at – to have their little shindig, because the "nice" places don't want to be associated with a fag event.

What the fuck have I been telling them forever?

They talk such a load of crap about "community" whenever it fucking suits them, but they don't have a clue what it really means.

They spend all their time pretending to be just like the straights, trying so desperately to fit in to what the fucking straight world says their lives and their relationships should be like, and then they're surprised when it doesn't fucking work, and they're forced to face the fact that they're fags and dykes.

Dickheads! They should be fucking proud of what they are, not trying to hide it. How the fuck can they expect the straights to respect them, when they don't respect themselves? When they're so fucking apologetic about being wanting to suck cock (or pussy), when they sneer at any gay man (or dyke) who's actually honest about wanting to get fucking laid, then what they're doing is betraying their damned "community", stabbing it right in the fucking back.

Well, tonight they'll be in the realm of the cocksuckers, and the perverts who actually like to have fucking sex occasionally, so maybe they'll learn a thing or two. Who knows, they might even have a good time. More than a few of them seemed to enjoy the Carnivale, they might even enjoy this.

At least it should keep them off Justin's back. Fuck! His boyfriend is handing over the club to them gratis for the night; the least they can do is show their gratitude by not giving Sunshine any more shit.

So I guess I can concentrate on being brilliant for Leo tomorrow, and stop worrying about anyone trying to hurt Sunshine tonight. I don't have to feel like I'm reliving a bad time by heading off to Chicago after Leo once again, instead of thinking of Justin. This time, he's okay with it, and he'll have people around him to look out for him.

This time, I can get in the limo and head off to the airport with a clear conscience.

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