A Winter's Tale - Love's Not Time's Fool - Part 2
 

As Gus pulled into the driveway of his father's new home, he found himself trying to picture the high energy businessman who was the only father he knew within this serene environment. He wasn't particularly successful. It added another level of strangeness to an already strange situation.

He'd never really known his father well. The man had been, all through his life, a source of generous Christmas and birthday gifts, but at the same time, a remote figure who would on rare occasions make awkward visits. One of his mothers hated him, the other constantly made excuses for him. Neither of them seemed to actually know him very well. Gus wondered if anyone did. For himself, Gus didn't feel as if he knew Brian Kinney at all.

A few months ago, though, his father had contacted him, announcing that he was essentially planning to retire and asking if Gus was interested in taking on an active role in the businesses he'd spent his life building.

After much internal debate, Gus had decided to come and see him, to talk it over. He hadn't told either of his mothers. He knew what Melanie would think. Could practically hear her now, spitting that his father was trying to buy him, as always. As for his Mom, Lindsay, she would go all gooey eyed and start romanticizing about how it was all meant to be.

Both of them would attempt to pressure him into doing what they wanted and as they'd disagree, they would then argue about it.

That had been the pattern of Gus's whole life, whenever his father's name had come up.

So he just hadn't told them. He'd informed the senior partners in his law firm that he needed leave to attend to some personal matters, left the small apartment that was the only home he had at the moment since his short-lived marriage had crashed and burned, got in his car and started to drive. From the road he'd contacted his father who'd seemed both surprised and even a little disconcerted to hear from him, and now he was here.

All this left him feeling though, as he drove round to the side of the house, more as if he were gearing up for an interview or an important business meeting, rather than anticipating a reunion with the father he hadn't seen for nearly two years.

Brian had come to JR's wedding. Well, he'd made a brief appearance at the reception. He'd smiled at her in a way that Gus couldn't ever seem to remember him smiling before, looking truly emotional and tender, told her she looked beautiful and that her father would have been so proud of her, then he'd left. Later, among the gifts, she'd found an envelope with an extremely generous check. Mel, of course, had mouthed off about what an asshole Kinney was, always thinking his money could excuse his bad behavior.

Gus had just wondered if his father had ever been proud of him.

 

*****
 

When the car came to a halt Gus sat for a moment, suddenly feeling absurdly shy.

It had occurred to him more than once on the way down from Ottawa that he'd never actually stayed with his father before.

There had been talk of it a few times when he was growing up, but it had never happened. Somehow Mom's "spending a couple of weeks with your father" had always turned into Mel's "you'll love staying with my folks in Florida, they're right near the beach". Or to him going to some damned camp or … anything but visiting his Dad.

He had no way of knowing whether Brian had ever fought to have him come and stay. Probably not. He'd signed over his parental rights right after Gus had been born, and hardly ever came to visit in Toronto. Not that he would have been welcome. Gus knew that. Every time he had come, the visit had been preceded by days of rows between Mom and Mel and once he'd left it had been weeks before the cold silences between the two had been banished from the house.

Maybe that's why he'd stayed away.

And why he'd never insisted on Gus being allowed to come and stay with him.

Gus was here at his father's place now though, and giving himself a shake, he got out of the car.

 

*****
 

He didn't know what sort of a reception he'd expected, but he found himself both touched and surprised by the warmth his father's welcome. He'd never been sure with his father whether any gesture of physical affection would be acceptable, but this time after a momentary hesitation his father had reached out for him and they'd hugged; a little awkwardly, true; but Gus had felt the depth and strength of Brian's love for him in a way that he hadn't since he was a very young child – before they'd moved to Canada. Those memories flooded back to him now, and he found himself overwhelmingly glad that he'd come.

Maybe now, as an adult, without his Mom and Mel and Kate, his ex wife, all chipping in with their opinions, he could finally come to know his father a little.

As he followed the tall, still slender figure up the stairs to the suite of rooms that Brian had had prepared for him he found himself, for the first time in a long time, looking forward to the next days and weeks. For so long every day had been a struggle to get out of bed and force himself to go in to a job that he'd never enjoyed, but of late had really come to hate. But now he felt as if there was light at the end of a very long tunnel.

He'd gone to law school because it had been what Mel had wanted him to do and he'd never been able to martial any arguments that she would have recognized as to why he shouldn't; she would have regarded his only real argument - that he simply didn't want to - as pathetically childish and self-indulgent. It would only have garnered her standard, "if you don't shape up you're going to wind up just like your father" speeches.

He'd never really considered his father's money. Sure, it had always been there to provide the latest gadgets and gifts while he was growing up, but he'd never expected his father's wealth to support him; let alone for his father to offer him a role in managing any of his businesses.

He vaguely remembered one conversation during a particularly tense visit of Brian's to Toronto for his high school graduation. Mel hadn't even wanted to get him a ticket, had kept insisting that each pupil was only entitled to two, which was total bullshit, but very Melanie. They'd had a meal together, the four of them, the night before the ceremony, and Gus vaguely recalled his father asking whether he was taking any business management units in his degree, but Mel had jumped in and told Brian in no uncertain terms that business law was all he needed to know about, if that's the direction he decided to take; that he had to concentrate on where his real interests were, not get side-tracked.

His real interests!

Fuck!

As Gus placed his bags down in the beautiful room with its view out across the tennis courts to the hills in the distance, he reflected that Melanie had never really shown any desire to know what his real interests were. She'd just told him what she thought they should be, and expected him to follow her direction. And Mom had let her. He wondered what would have happened if he'd appealed to his father; but even now he shrank from the incredible drama that would have stirred up. As a boy, even as a young man, he'd felt himself incapable of it. So he'd gone into law, and he'd met and married a suitable girl and all the time he'd felt as if he'd been living someone else's life.

Maybe now was the time to find out how to live his own life. His father was, after all, by all accounts the absolute master of doing just that.

 

*****
 

"Gus."

His father's voice drew Gus out of his thoughts.

"Why don't you leave your stuff for Albrecht to unpack for you and come down and have a drink with me? Then I'll show you around."

"Oh. Okay. Sure."

His dad grinned at him. "Don't worry. I let Albrecht pack and unpack my Armani."

Gus laughed. His memories of his father included more than one queen out over something putting Brian's designer clothing at risk.

They made their way down the sweeping staircase.

"I can't believe this house," Gus said.

Brian snorted. "It's too fucking big, but …" he shrugged and with a strange little smile said, "I like it."

"So do I," Gus affirmed.

He was surprised when his father put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a hug. "Good!" he said. "It'll be yours eventually."

Gus felt uncomfortable. "Dad … I didn't come because of that."

His father raised an eyebrow at him as he waved him to a seat in front of the open fire in the huge central room, and said, "Why not? It's not like I have any other fucking family to leave things to."

Gus shook his head. "It's not why I came," he repeated. "I just …"

He took the glass his father handed him and sipped it slowly, using that as an excuse for not continuing. The truth was he didn't really know why he had come. It wasn't about the money. It wasn't even about the job his father had seemed to be offering him. It was just …

His father poured his own drink and brought it to sit near him in one of the obscenely comfortable chairs that were scattered around the room.

"You just …?" he queried.

"I just figured it was a chance to spend some time with you and to … to find out who you are. Who I am."

Brian considered him, tongue poked into his cheek in an expression Gus realized he'd seen often enough on his own face in the mirror. He went on, "Mel has told me all my life that I'm just like my father, so …"

This was rewarded with another snort of laughter. "I'll just bet she has. Every time you pissed her off, if I know Melanie."

Gus found himself grinning. For the first time the sting had gone out of the all too familiar reproof. He raised his glass to Brian. "You got it in one."

Brian nodded.

There was silence for a moment. Not an uncomfortable silence, but it had the feeling of something building, a sense of heightened drama, as if an important cue was about to be spoken.

And then it was.

 

*****
 

"Why did you sign over your rights to her?"

For a moment Gus regretted asking the question. His father looked wounded to the heart. Then the look was gone; but what took its place was bitter and perhaps even a little vengeful.

"What did they tell you?" he asked.

"Oh, Mom said that although you loved me you were never cut out to be a father, and that you did as much as you felt comfortable with. And Mel said … she said you'd never wanted me, and that you were only ever intended to be the sperm donor and what the fuck did it matter anyway? She said …" he paused for a moment, knowing the words were going to hurt, and maybe wanting to pay his father back a little for all the hours, weeks, years he'd spent wondering. "She said you were a selfish narcissistic asshole and that I should count myself lucky they'd got me away from you before you had a chance to do any real damage."

Another snort, but there was no humor in this one.

A pause.

Then, "Did they ever tell you that when you were first born I refused?"

Gus stared at him. "No!"

He was astonished at how that made him feel. Even more bewildered about what changed his father's mind – had he done it when they'd moved to Toronto? But also angry. His mother especially should have known how much even that small indication that his father had once wanted him would have meant to him.

Ridiculously childish tears stung his eyes. As he closed them, squeezing the tears back, he felt his father's hand grip his knee cap for an instant. Then Brian stood and moved to fetch the bottle of 18 year old single malt Scotch they'd been drinking. He put in on a small table where they could both reach it and refilled their glasses.

Gus sensed that he was playing for time. But before he could say anything, Brian sat once more and sighed.

Then he said, "You're not a fucking kid anymore. You deserve to know this shit."

His voice was raw.

And Gus knew then, knew with absolute certainty, that he'd been lied to; that his whole life had been founded on the lie that his father didn't want him, had never wanted him.

He reached out in his turn to rest his hand for a moment on his father's arm. Brian looked up at him, a long look that allowed Gus for maybe the first time to see into his heart. And what he saw there took precedence over the anger that had been building in him, and made him smile back shyly into Brian's eyes.

"I'm here now," he said; and if it was on the surface a non sequitur, Brian still understood his meaning.

He nodded and, after another sip of the whisky, held the glass in both hands, staring into the amber depths as he continued hoarsely, "I told them when they first gave me the papers to sign after you were born that I'd changed my mind; that I couldn't do it; that I wanted you to know you had a father."

He gave a reminiscent huff of laughter. "Mel went fucking ballistic."

He looked up for a moment and their eyes met. Gus gave a rueful grin. "I bet." Pause. Then, "So what changed?"

Brian was silent for a moment and then seemed to come to a decision. "They split up," he said. "Linds found out Mel was having an affair and she threw her out the house."

Gus found himself unsurprised by that. He'd heard, as kids do, things that looking back made him feel like they'd both had little flings over the years; some more bitterly fought over than others. But it didn't seem to him to make sense as a reason for his father to sign away his rights. Unless he'd only held onto them to piss off Melanie, and had signed once she was out of the picture. That thought bought a stab of pain.

"Your mother, who sometimes behaves like a typical fucking blonde …"

He broke off for a moment to steady the bottle of scotch which had suddenly seemed to rock on the little table.

"Or maybe she's just a fucking woman … anyway, she decided she needed help with the bills and with you and who the fuck knows what else … so she took up with this guy … some French Canadian, I can't remember his name. He wanted to stay in the States but couldn't get his green card, so they decided to get married. He had the fucking nerve to tell me that if they did I'd have to stay away from you in case the authorities caught on what they were up to."

Gus stared at him. All of this was completely new to him. He wondered if Brian had agreed to sign his rights over so that this guy could adopt him and it would all look more real to the authorities. He supposed that he might have done that to help Lindsay. Gus knew Brian loved her. Lindsay had told him so.

"Your father loves us both, Gus," she'd said, time and again. "He just can't show it. He doesn't know how."

And they'd made sure Brian never got a chance to learn, Gus thought with a jolt of pain. They took me away from him so he never got a chance to practice showing me, except when he came for visits and even then they hardly ever left me alone with him.

The thought blasted through him like a dazzle of lightning that the hour or so since he'd arrived was the longest stretch of time he'd ever spent alone with his father. How fucked was that?

"So … you signed to help them out with the Immigration Authorities?" he stammered.

"Fuck no!" Brian ejaculated, affronted. "I said I'd sign if she and Mel got back together. I thought … I thought that way you'd have a fucking real family. That it was the best thing I could do for you."

His voice was very quiet on those last words, but they fell into a profound stillness so Gus had no doubt he'd heard them.

He sat for a long moment realizing how wrong Lindsay had been.

His father had known exactly how to show how much he'd loved his son.

He'd signed away his rights to try to give Gus a solid family; and all through Gus's childhood, while Melanie sniped and cut at him, and Lindsay did her martyr routine, he'd never once, while Gus was around anyway, retaliated by reminding them of the sacrifice he'd made. He'd done his best with the limited contact he'd been allowed, the short amount of time they'd been able to spend together, to try to demonstrate his love, and also with the expensive gifts and lavish financial support he'd provided for his son. But the enormous gift he'd given, the sacrifice he'd made for Gus's sake, that he'd never mentioned until now.

Gus fought to blink back his tears. He knew his father would hate an emotional scene. And he didn't want Brian to ever reproach himself for what he'd done. He couldn't have known … couldn't have foreseen - how happily Gus would have traded a life with Melanie in it for a life with his father. And Gus was never going to tell him. There was no point, no time for regrets.

They had now. That was all that counted.

"I'm here now," he said again.

Brian gave another snort of laughter and nodded. "So you are. About fucking time, too, that I spent some time with my Sonnyboy."

A pause. Then, as if gearing himself for disappointment, "How long can you stay?"

And all the pieces of Gus's former life just fell away and with love and hope he stepped into his future.

"As long as you'll have me," he said.

 

*****
 

This time the pause was a long one.

"Don't you have a job to go back to?" Brian asked.

Gus shrugged. "A job I fucking hate. I've always hated." He bit his lip. "I don't expect you to support me or anything, I'll find something. And I've still got some money saved, even if most of it went in … in the divorce."

That part he hated saying. He felt such a fool. He'd known going in that it wasn't right, that he and Kate were never going to make it long term. They had practically nothing in common, despite all Melanie's protestations to the contrary.

Unlike him, Kate was a career lawyer. She loved it. Loved the job itself as well as the prestige and the money. Gus had hated just about everything about it.

He sat now trying to work out what sort of a job he could find here if he didn't want to go into law. He supposed that Brian's original communication about finding something in his company might still be on the table, although if his father wanted him to take on the company's legal work …

Gus sighed.

"Don't be fucking stupid," Brian said. "The only reason I didn't sign over anything to you when you graduated college was because while I was getting stuff drawn up you announced your fucking engagement, and as soon as I met the little darling I thought she was a …"

He broke off. Then said, "Well, I thought it wasn't smart to hand over anything that she'd be able to claim half of, anyway. The lawyers tell me that now that the divorce is finalized, they can tie it up so she can't get her hands on anything."

Gus looked at him. "You didn't think it would last?" he asked, not sure how he felt about that.

Brian sucked his lips between his teeth; another gesture Gus had seen in the mirror a time or two. "I thought you weren't a good match," he said slowly.

Gus laughed, a little bitterly, but also with a sense of relief. His mothers hadn't done yet reproaching him for not doing more to make the marriage work.

He felt that hand squeeze his knee again.

"Don't sweat it, Sonnyboy. You can take as long as you like; make sure you know what direction you want to go in. I mean … if you want to open your own law firm, do pro bono work, whatever you want."

"I never want to open another fucking law book in my life," Gus heard himself say. And looking into Brian's eyes realized that for the first time he'd shocked his father.

Then Brian sat back, with another of those lips pulled in looks and said eventually, "Fucking Melanie."

Gus shrugged.

Brian nodded. "Her fucking daughter's too fucking dumb to get through law, so she set you up to follow in her footsteps instead."

Gus supposed that he should have leapt to JR's defense, but he didn't. It felt so good to be able to say, without calling down the fires of Hell onto his head, "JR hated school. Always did. And no matter what Mel said or threatened if she didn't want to do her homework or shit, she just didn't."

Brian laughed. "Just like Mikey," he chuckled. "Her fucking father was just the same."

He was about to say something else, then, but all of a sudden there was a soft chime from the house alarm system.

"Dinner," he announced. "Come on, Sonnyboy, let's have something to eat and then I'll take you over the rest of the house."

He stood and waited for Gus to join him, ushering his son ahead of him through into the formal dining room.

There was a bang from overhead and for a moment Brian looked alarmed. "I must have left the upstairs window open and something's blown over. You sit down and I'll just go close it."

He was gone a little longer than Gus expected, and looked a little flustered when he sat down again; but he smiled at his son who was talking to Albrecht about what his favorite food items were.

"Watch out for him," Brian advised. "If you let him he'll force feed you till you're the size of the house."

Albrecht huffed and tutted, but Gus watched the way he fussed over Brian, making sure that he was comfortably seated and had water and wine within reach. He sensed that the servant was genuinely fond of his father, and that brought a smile to his face.

"You should do more of that," his father observed unexpectedly. "It suits you."

Gus ducked his head. He hadn't had much to smile about recently, but now … now he felt lighter than he had for years.

And not because Brian was obviously ready and willing to meet any financial needs he might have. That was hardly even a part of it. It was more that …

In the short time he'd been here, he'd been made aware that Brian was simply ready to support him – in whatever way he could, in whatever Gus decided to do.

Gus, who'd never in his life experienced that kind of unconditional support, from his mothers, or even from his wife, felt uplifted by it in ways that he couldn't begin to articulate – even to himself. He truly felt that he could do anything, at least try anything, just because his father would be behind him with that quiet lips pulled in look, encouraging him and understanding. Just understanding.

Gus felt his smile widen.

Brian gave one of his tongue in cheek smirks and ate a few mouthfuls of his dinner.

"Take some time," he advised. "It's a good place here to just sit and think for a while. Get to know yourself, and then you can work out what you want. You might be surprised at what you find."

"Were you?" Gus heard himself ask.

To his surprise, his father seemed to flush a little, and ducked his head with an almost shy little smile. "You could say that," he said at last.

Then he laughed.

"Okay, enough of all this shit, who do you think's going to win the big game on Thursday?"

Gus knew that the subject was being deliberately led into banalities, but also knew it was probably what they both needed. He was also reminded that this week was Thanksgiving; the first one he'd ever spent with his father.

 

*****
 

They sat talking for a while over dinner, but Gus sensed his father was restless, and thought that maybe the older man was tired. It had been an emotional evening.

For that matter, he was kind of tired himself.

He asked Brian if he'd mind if they left the tour of the house till the morning, and was surprised at how … relieved … his father seemed at that suggestion.

"I think I might make it an early night," Brian said. "But if you want anything, just walk to the end of the hall and turn right. My room's down at the end."

He got up, and then said, "If you want to try the hot tub, it's just through there. I can show …"

Gus smiled at him. "Not tonight, I don't think. I think maybe just a shower, and then bed. It was a longish drive."

Brian nodded and they walked up the stairs together, parting a little awkwardly at the top of the stairs.

 

*****
 

Gus, true to his word, had a shower, watched a few minutes of TV and then turned it off and drifted into sleep. He slept soundly all night.

Brian didn't have quite such a relaxing time.

To start off with, he had to go down and raid the kitchen on behalf of the outraged blond who was more than a little pissed off with him for eating in the downstairs dining room.

Then he had to go through "The Rules" once again, since Justin, judging by the trick with the whisky decanter and the overturning of his damned easel when they were sitting down to dinner, seemed to have forgotten them.

The Rules involved Justin not doing anything to draw attention to himself while Gus was around, and in return Brian had promised to still spend as much time with him as possible, including a couple of hours every afternoon in the studio.

It wasn't ideal, but since Brian could hardly introduce his son to the house's resident ghost – given that no one else could apparently either see or hear Justin – it was the best he could come up with.

"I just feel like now he's here you don't …" Justin's voice became very quiet, he knew he was on dangerous ground, "… you don't need me anymore. You don't even want me. It would be easier if I wasn't around."

Brian huffed. "Of course it would be fucking easier!" he snapped. "But why the fuck would you think I want 'easy'? 'Easy' would be getting some boy toy to move in here with me. Someone I could keep in line by threatening to throw his ass out the door if he gave me a hard time."

He reached out to pull his pouting whatever-the-fuck Justin was into his arms; an almost-embrace that both of them had adjusted to, become familiar with, even maybe craved a little or some fucking thing.

"I don't want 'easy'," Brian found himself assuring the blond. "I …"

He broke off. Fuck this was hard! This was why he'd never fucking "done" relationships. But he supposed he was doing one now, so he'd just have to fucking man-up. "I want you," he finished, surprisingly firmly.

Justin gave a gasp – or what would have been a gasp if he'd had any air in his lungs – and threw his arms around Brian's neck.

"I just get scared," he admitted.

Brian who understood all too well what he was most scared of, hugged him harder. "I want you," he repeated. "I will always fucking want you."

Justin, for his part, felt the fear of being thrust back into the abyss of loneliness that had been his existence before Brian recede and kissed him fervently.

Brian resolved to get Gus to spend as much time as possible in the pool area with him. Down there, Justin was only a vague presence, but at least there the three of them could almost be together, even if Brian couldn't do anything to acknowledge Justin's presence. He'd just have to get the little twat to promise not to get up to any hi-jinks. Like that was going to fucking work!

Well, maybe he could bribe him.

There were all sorts of foodstuffs that Brian never had in the house. Ice cream. Cookies. Chocolate.

Maybe if he dangled the promise of a huge box of designer chocolates in front of him, Justin might conceivably decide it was worth behaving.

Brian sighed.

He figured it was worth a try. But only as a last resort.

He'd start off with blow jobs.

 

*****
 

The next couple of days passed for Gus almost in a dream, so easy and relaxed were they. He spent time with his father and became used to the man's sardonic, not to say acerbic, sense of humor. He explored the house, although he didn't spend much time in his father's wing; it seemed pushy and disrespectful to insert himself there unless he was asked. He liked it though, although he did wonder about the "studio" into which his father had shown him briefly. It had everything an artist could want but … there wasn't even a sketch to show any sign that his father actually used any of the lavish equipment.

It had beautiful light, though, he had to admit; even though the days were cold, and the sky was leaden, threatening snow, the room seemed filled with a kind of golden glow.

While the snow held off, he also wandered the grounds which were beautiful but somehow felt sad, almost bereft. They were well kept, but still seemed uncared for; unloved. He adored all gardens and itched to throw himself into turning the empty neatness into a marvel of color and shape and feeling. He wondered what they would look like in the Spring and Summer, and yearned to see them then. Maybe he would, who knew?

He also spent a lot of time with Brian in the pool and work-out area. He wasn't surprised to find that his father worked out religiously every day as well as swimming laps with the tenacity and energy of a man half his age, but he was surprised to find that his father also like to just lounge around down there, reading, or doing some desultory surfing on the vidcom. Gus had to admit, though, that he enjoyed it too. The area had floor to ceiling windows all along the outer wall which looked out across the garden and he found it incredibly restful just to sit and look out and maybe dream a little of the work that he would love to have done out in the green world beyond the window.

The only thing he found strangely unsettling about that room was the occasional sense that someone was looking at him, even when his father was on the treadmill or in the pool. He knew it was ridiculous, but every now and again the feeling would wash over him and if he turned his head quickly he would sometimes catch a glimpse of … something … out of the corner of his eye.

His father seemed unaware of it though; in fact, in that room he seemed even more relaxed and … well, happy, than anywhere else in the house, so Gus shrugged it aside. Put it down to the relaxation in nerves that had been over-stretched for longer than he could remember.

 

*****
 

When he awoke on Thanksgiving morning it was snowing. He and Brian spent the morning as usual in the workout area, and then he went for a quick walk outside before lunch.

When he got back, his father was nowhere to be seen, so Gus went upstairs. He'd intended to just go to his room and change out of his snow-wet clothes, but when he reached the head of the stairs he heard voices coming from the studio. Intrigued, he moved that way to see who'd come visiting. What he heard stopped him in his tracks and for a moment he couldn't help but stand eavesdropping.

 

*****
 

"Brian, I get it alright. I know he's your son and you want to spend Thanksgiving with him and have a proper family dinner and all that shit. I get it."

The voice sounded angry, frustrated, but also incredibly sad.

"Justin …"

"Just go … he'll be back soon, and he'll expect to find you down in front of the fire all ready to have a nice drink together before you start plowing into the turkey."

A sigh. His father. Also sad. "I just can't let him sit down to dinner on his own, Sunshine."

Who the fuck was he talking to? Did he have some secret lover stashed away? No one had said anything. Not even Albrecht. In fact, both Albrecht and Jorges had made a point of telling Gus how glad they were that he was here because his father was so lonely.

So who the fuck …?

This was bullshit. If his father had some lover tucked away out here in this romantically isolated mansion why the fuck hadn't he introduced him?

Impulsively, Gus decided to put an end to whatever the fuck game his father was playing. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he pushed open the door of the studio.

His father was standing in a really odd pose, almost as if he were embracing someone; but there was no one there.

Gus looked around. He still didn't see anyone.

"I heard voices," he said in confusion. "I wondered who it was."

His father spun around, his face a mix of confusion, alarm and something that looked astonishingly like hope.

"You heard …"

"Brian, he heard me!" No mistaking the tone in that voice that seemed to be coming out of nowhere. That was the sound of pure delight, joy even.

Brian stepped forward, almost as if he were stepping in to protect someone, or something.

"Gus!"

But then his father was elbowed aside as the voice said again, even more jubilantly, "He heard me!"

And just like that, where before there had only been empty space, Gus saw the speaker.

The guy looked a few years younger than Gus himself and at first Gus thought dazedly that this must be why Brian had kept him secret, because he was ashamed of their age difference. But all the time he knew it was more than that. There had been no one in the room when he'd come in except his father and him. No one visible that is. And now there was. He stared at the blond guy.

"He can see me! You can, can't you?" And if he'd been jubilant about being heard, he was absolutely ecstatic over being seen, practically dancing from foot to foot with sheer joy.

Dazedly, Gus nodded.

"Fuck!" his father said, apparently completely flabbergasted. Then again. "Fuck!"

"I think I need to sit down," Gus said, while his mind waged war with his eyes and ears.

"Oh, I'm sorry. If I'd known … I didn't expect … no one but Brian can see me. No one else ever has …"

The blond guy sounded genuinely apologetic now and seemed to be battling with a chair; not so much pushing it as jiggling it across the floor towards him. Brian came out of his stupor then and steered Gus into it. He reached into a cupboard and drew out a bottle of his precious Scotch. "I think you might need a drink, Sonnyboy," he said. "I know I sure as fuck do."

Gus watched bemused as his father poured two glasses of single malt, and then another glass of cola.

"He can't drink alcohol," Brian said, almost absently. "It totally wipes him out."

Gus wondered how it was that his father felt that of all the things that needed explaining here, the place to start was why this … whatever it was … didn't rate a glass of whisky.

Suddenly, that seemed terribly funny and he started to laugh.

 

*****
 

"Oh, shit, now he's hysterical. Sunshine, why the fuck did you …?"

"I didn't do anything," the blond guy cut him off. "Not deliberately anyway. I can't help it if he heard me. How could I know? No one else fucking has."

Brian sank into another chair and regarded his son and his ghostly lover.

"So now what?" he asked the world at large.

Justin shrugged. Then he beamed with excitement. "Well, now we can all have Thanksgiving Dinner up here together!"

For a moment Brian stared at him, then, like his son, he began to laugh.

He was cut off by Justin pinching him. "You have to buzz down and tell Albrecht," he said.

Gus, still staring at him in wonder, found himself asking of all ridiculous questions, "Is he always this bossy?"

The blond guy … what kind of a name was fucking 'Sunshine'? … frowned at him, but his father grinned.

"Pretty much," he answered. Then he got up and went over to the comm system and did as he'd been told.

"Now you, quiet!" he said firmly, pointing at the blond, when he'd finished giving his bewildered cook/ housekeeper his instructions. "You have to keep quiet while Albrecht moves the table centerpiece and all that shit up here."

"I'm Justin, by the way," the blond said, more or less ignoring him and holding out his hand to a dubious Gus.

Brian sighed. "Gus … this is Justin. Justin … my son, Gus. Happy now, WASP boy?"

Gus found himself shaking hands, more or less, with what he could only hope was a ghost. He had to hope that because otherwise he'd finally cracked and gone completely and utterly insane; the wagon would come for him and he'd spend the rest of his life in a tight white waistcoat. Or were they green nowadays?

Justin smiled at Gus beguilingly, but then, seemingly sensing his lover's deep disquiet, turned to Brian and flung his arms round his neck, hugging him tightly. "I'll be good, I promise," he whispered, just loud enough for Gus to hear.

Brian grunted. "That'll be a fucking first," he sniped. But his eyes were warm and suddenly seemed filled with light as he stroked a hand absently across the blond hair.

Gus watched in awe. His father looked … different … younger and somehow softer and …

For some reason Gus felt that he was seeing his father the way he should have been, the way he'd been meant to be.

It made him desperately sad at first.

But as he sat, sipping his whisky in silence while next door they heard Albrecht and Jorges (helping out inside for once) moving around setting up the table for a Thanksgiving Feast, he watched Brian and the young man … ghost … spirit … whatever Justin was. And it seemed to him that, strange … bizarre … although this was … it was also somehow right. Perfect, even.

His father looked up and caught his eye.

He gave one of those lips pulled in looks and then said quietly, his voice a little anxious, but also resounding with deep echoes of happiness, "We'll talk about it over dinner."

Gus could only nod at him. And wait.

 

*****
 

Over dinner his father and Justin took turns in explaining as much as they understood themselves about how they'd come to find each other. Justin shared the story of his early death, and briefly mentioned the long years between. His eyes had clouded during that part, and somehow the room itself had seemed less brightly lit. But Brian's hand had sought his and at its touch, Justin had smiled and the room had brightened again.

Brian talked about finding the house, and being drawn to the studio room by the light and by the feeling in the room. Gus recalled his own sense of the golden glow in the room, and his father had smiled while Justin beamed at him.

"He was meant to be here with us," Justin affirmed happily.

Gus found himself being distracted by the amount of food Justin seemed to be consuming. Surely ghosts didn't have to eat?

Eventually Brian noticed his absorbed gaze moving between Brian's plate and Justin's mouth.

"He doesn't need the food," Brian said. "He's just missed the taste."

"Mmmm," Justin agreed, mouth full, but humming happily.

"I don't usually let them serve this kind of shit," Brian said, eyeing the plate piled high with potatoes and gravy and stuffing along with the turkey and green bean salad and some kind of sinfully delicious purée of cauliflower and blue cheese.

Justin swallowed, sipped his cola and said blissfully, "I haven't tasted a meal like this for over thirty years."

Gus smiled at him in turn and said, "It is pretty good. Dad, aren't you going to eat anything?"

Brian shrugged, but let Justin feed him some turkey and a little potato.

"He doesn't eat enough to keep a sparrow alive," Justin complained.

"Why don't you just ask for an extra plate?" Gus asked. "Or, you know, get one and some cutlery and stash it up here if you do this a lot."

They both stared at him. Then Justin giggled and looked at Brian.

"Okay, okay," his lover responded. "Tomorrow I'll get some extra fucking stuff for you to eat off."

"He just likes me sharing his plate," Justin said, giving Brian a little nudge.

It was probably at that point that the situation really penetrated with Gus. His father wasn't just sharing a house, and some food, with a ghost. These two were clearly and unmistakably … involved. They were lovers.

Remembering how it had felt to both touch and not touch Justin's hand, Gus's mind steered away from the physical implications of that and tried to concern itself with the emotional. He felt that he should be scared, that he should be desperately worried about his father's state of mind. Hell! He should be worried about his own state of mind that he was even thinking this stuff.

But once more, as he started on the pecan and walnut pie that followed the turkey and grinned at Justin's ecstatic purrs of appreciation, he found himself surprisingly ready to accept the situation.

If his father was totally delusional, then so was Gus. Because he was sitting having dinner and an extended conversation with someone who wasn't really, in the physical sense, quite there; and yet he was. Justin's hand moved the spoonful of pie and cream to his mouth, he pushed the food inside and it disappeared. It didn't drop down to the carpet or reappear on the spoon, it simply vanished into Justin's mouth in the same way it was vanishing into his own. And when Brian put his hand over Justin's at one point when they were talking about Justin's family, Gus saw Justin's hand turn over to meet it, and the two sets of fingers intertwine.

As far as he could tell, while Justin might not be, in one sense, entirely human … or anyway alive, he was in all the ways that count definitely real and definitely here.

And, which was really the only thing that counted for Gus, his being here clearly made his father very happy.

So Gus decided that his rational mind that was still trying to bitch away about this "situation" could go fuck itself. His life had been ruled for far too long by standards of strict rationality and it had never brought him anything but misery. It was more than time for a new outlook.

"So what do you think, Sonnyboy?" his father asked at last as they sat sipping the coffee Brian had laced with liqueurs – well for him and Gus anyway.

"I think … I think I'd like to be a landscape gardener," Gus heard himself respond.

Justin, sensing the absolute acceptance in the apparent non sequitur, laughed, the sound a peal of pure happiness; and after a moment his father grinned and responded.

"Well, you can take this place on for a start, that should keep you busy for the next six months or so at least."

He raised his cup in salute and while the fire crackled and outside the snow fell softly, here in the warmth and the light, the three members of this newly formed little family sat and toasted each other and their shared future. And each, in their own inner heart of hearts, gave deep and sincere thanks to whatever or whoever had brought them here together.
 

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