Chapter 35 - Kept in the Dark

Brian

It's official. He's set on driving me mad. And he found a pretty good way of accomplishing it, too. He's either doing the Mikey, doing this whiny thing when saying my name. Or – and this is even worse – he bounces around like our resident queen. It's highly disconcerting. Especially on a plane where you can't hide away. Of course he had to get the fucking Lonely Planet again. And the Time Out Guide to London. Not to mention the National Geographic thing. Fuck him. For the first two or so hours of the flight across the Atlantic he's immersed himself in those fucking guides. But then the babbling started. I swear he's worse than Linz, Mikey and Deb put together. It's nice that he's so excited, don't get me wrong. But does he have to show it in such a way? I mean, a simple "Thank you, Brian" would have sufficed. But no! We are talking about Mr Justin Taylor here, and Mr Taylor took lessons with me and doesn't do things the easy way. Fuck! I'm so screwed.

He's still in babble mode when we sit in the taxi, speeding into Central London. Yes, taxi. Justin's insisting on using the British terms, so we are on a holiday, and have been riding a lift, and he's looking forward to taking the tube and such. Well, if he thinks he can get me on the subway, I mean, the Underground, he's sadly fucking mistaken. Then again, he has a way of making me do things I don't want to do, so... He's stunned when we stop in front of a small hotel – not the Ritz or anything like that – but the Burns. It's not what I'd book usually, but Cyn was there last time she's been to London – I never knew that she loves the city so much – and she said that we have to stay there. So we are. Even though it only has three stars. Even though it's not exactly in the centre of the city. But Justin's taken with it right away, and starts bouncing again. It's only 4 p.m. because we took that hideously early flight, so my fucking partner decides we should head out and "soak up some culture". In other words, we are off to a museum. Great, perfect really.

I'm still changing into something more casual, so he goes down to the reception on his own and when I join him, he's talking rather animatedly with that fucking concierge, who is flirting as if her life depended upon it. And, as always, Justin doesn't notice a thing. Well, I do, and I think I've to rescue him. So I step up behind him and wrap my arms around his slim waist, and I almost feel sorry for her when I see her face fall. And then I notice what they've been talking about. She gave Justin directions to the next Underground station. "You exit the hotel, turn right, cross the Earls Court Road, and then you should see it. If you want to go into the city, you best take the Piccadilly Line, and I suggest you get a Travelcard so you don't have to buy a ticket every time you take the tube." Which part of "I'm not going on the subway" didn't the little shit understand? Justin is thanking Ms Concierge like the polite WASP that he is, and I'm just rolling my eyes – annoyed. "I hope you have a wonderful afternoon, and if you have any other questions, ask for Mary." We sure as hell will do no such thing.

I'm about to tell her as much when my blond twink drags me onto the street, and a few minutes later I'm on a train of the fucking Underground, hating every moment of it. I'm relieved when we finally get off at Piccadilly Circus, but relief turns into dread the moment we walk down Haymarket. "Justin, no! I'm not visiting the National Gallery today. I'm not!" He shrugs and tells me that I can also wait for him outside. "Oh no, I won't. If I do, you'll stay even longer than you would normally." I realise too late what I just said. Fuck it. And fuck him for all of this. And fuck Vincent van Gogh for drawing his stupid Sunflowers. And John Constable for his gigantic drawings of rural England. And fuck the no admission fee policy of many London museums. Oh, and did I mention that I hate bookshops? Especially the museum variety? They seem to pull Justin in and only allow him to exit after leaving a fair amount of money behind. And I have the feeling that this won't be the last time it happens, either. After all, there are a lot of museums in Swinging London.

Unfortunately, there's not only museums in London – something I learn the hard way two days into our little vacation. He wants to go and see a fucking musical. And expects me to come along. No way! No fucking way in hell. I'm not watching one of those mushy love stories. I'm not. But of course he manages to get me to agree – all it takes is an earth-shattering blow job. Fuck! Well, at least he didn't pick Phantom. Thank God for small mercies. He just drags me to the Palace Theatre and we spent three and a half hours witnessing something that would have Victor Hugo toss in his grave. I read the books, okay?! And I know that this Les Misérables has next to nothing to do with them. Justin's enjoying himself – laughing at the Thénardiers, suffering with Eponine, and I think I even see him shed a tear or two when the barricade falls. Oh, and he's in love with Javert. Who, according to a certain blond twink, only killed himself because he was too chicken-shit to admit that he secretly longed to be with Valjean. I've said it before, but I'll say it again – leave it to a queen to turn anything into a drama.

Once Valjean is dead, and everyone's off to enjoy the afterlife, I'm dragging Justin into one of the many gay clubs, and he practically passes out when we get back to the hotel. Good. That gives me the opportunity to take certain measurements. Now I only have to get them to Harrods without him noticing and we'll be all set. Set to do the unspeakable. Something I never ever thought I'd do. Just like I never thought I'd be in a relationship. Or that I would find someone to love and – more importantly – who loves me in turn. The truth is, I always wanted it. But I somehow managed to convince myself that I didn't – didn't need it, didn't deserve it. After all, if my own family couldn't love me, then who could? Sure, Mikey did. And Linz. And Vic and Deb. But that wasn't the kind of love I'm talking about right now. Okay, it was as far as Mikey is concerned. Problem is, I never felt the pull with him, the pull that made me look towards that street lamp the night Gus was born. The night my whole life was altered because of one silly blond twink who wanted to get rid of his cherry. Who stayed around because he thought he loved me. No, that's not true. He knew that he loved me.

And I was scared shitless of that love he professed to have for me. Because I had no fucking clue what to do with it, with him. Except for fucking him into the mattress, that is. And Mikey – he didn't make things any easier for me. It was obvious that he was less than impressed with me, and I was suddenly sitting between the chairs. And I tried to stay away from Justin, I really did. Only he seemed to be everywhere, especially after I'd made sure that he stayed at Debbie's and worked at the diner. I guess that was my subconscious coming to the fore and making sure I didn't screw up. Just like it did when Justin came back to me, wrecking havoc in my kitchen. That day I said goodbye to my inhibitions as far as relationships are concerned. I mean, I basically told him that the loft was his home and that I wouldn't trick when he was around. I told him he was my fucking partner for Christ's sake. Okay, that wasn't the first time I did, but back then, he wasn't around. No, he was snowboarding in Vermont. If the same thing were happening today, I'd go after him. But the loser I was then simply couldn't do it. Couldn't take that leap and say, "Fuck the Stud of Liberty Avenue, Justin's more important."

Well, I'm ready to do it now – and more. And if anyone has a problem with it – tough! We survived the fiddle fuck, and wannabe tricks, and my own stupidity. And if we survived all that, we can take on the world. And I'm going to commit myself as soon as we get back to the Pitts. Oh, and I'm never, never talking to Linz again. Or any other woman for that matter. Fucking lezzy vibes. Fucking romantic bullshit. What the fuck have I been thinking?! But even though I would love to I know that I can't blame them for the way things turned out. It was me. And only me. It was time for me to grow out of that Brian Fucking Kinney persona I was hiding behind. Peter finally grew up, and Wendy was cheering him on. And I just have to look at Justin – he's lying on his chest, his face buried in his pillow, hair tousled – to know that it's been worth it. Yes, there are times when he's driving me fucking crazy and I want to go back to the way I was before he came along, but that thought alone makes me stop in my tracks. I've had my chance to get rid of him, but I didn't. Because I didn't want to go back to that Brian. Didn't want to live his life again. Cause it sucked.

Sure, I could fuck everyone I wanted, was free as a bird, thought I was happy. And all the while I had been waiting for something, or rather, someone to come along and wake me up. Who knows, if Justin hadn't come along when he did, I might be dead now. Cause, fuck, it hadn't been Mikey's little monologue that stopped me from doing something even more self-destructive than scarfing on my thirtieth birthday. No. As sappy as it may sound, it was thinking of Justin that did the trick. He'd asked me to his Prom, and what better way to recapture my lost youth than a high school prom? And suddenly I had something to do that had nothing to do with getting pissed or stoned, or whatever. Who knows, maybe it was the fact that he'd gotten in under the wire as Debbie put it ages later, and I somehow admitted it to myself. Admitted that I cared about him. And that I might as well do what he asked of me for once. And finally I'm not regretting it anymore. That night – it was the best of both our lives, despite Chris Hobbs and his baseball bat. Which is why I'm going to...

He's turning, and mumbles something unintelligible. And then he cracks his eyes open and gives me a lazy smile. "Staring at me again? Or are you guarding my sleep once more? You know, it's kinda sweet..." Sweet?! I have you know, Sunshine, that I don't do sweet. Ever. "...but if you don't sleep, you'll be all irritable tomorrow, and we can't have that." I guess he's got a point there, but that still doesn't give him the right to call me, or anything I do, sweet! Little shit! "So, what can I do to make you get some shut-eye?" He wiggles his eyebrows, his eyes glinting mischievously. For someone who's been asleep only a moment ago... I lose that train of thought when his hand sneaks beneath the sheets to grasp my growing erection. So he can make me hard just by looking at me. So what?

However, that smirk upon his features, that self-satisfied grin, it's a little too much to take, and I think it's time to wipe it off his face. I'm moving out of his reach, and flip him on his stomach before he can even think of protesting. I'm covering his body with my own, and reach for the lube. But when I start to prepare him, he shakes his head, "Just ... just do it." Okay, normally I'd draw it out now, would show him who's in charge and all of that. Because I'm still Brian Fucking Kinney and he's just the blond twink I picked up under a street lamp. Right now, though, I want him too much to do that. I think we have a theme here, boys and girls, because I always want him. Which is slightly scary. Before he came along, I never felt like this. I believed in tricking, in fucking whoever I wanted. I never knew the need to be with the same person more than once. When I had my way with one guy, I was off to the next. Somehow he changed that, and now it's all about being with him. Fuck! I think it's time to get some action, or else I'm going to go insane with these thoughts.

I lube my cock, and push into him, his groans music to my ears. As always, the feeling of him around me, with nothing between us, almost makes me come right away. But somehow I manage to forego embarrassing myself, like I always do, by distracting the both of us with tiny nips and kisses along the line of his neck. By the time he's pushing back against me, I have myself under control again, and begin the thrusting motion that will eventually drive both of us crazy. "Brian..." At your service, Sunshine. Oh shit. I hope I didn't say that just now. Not that it wouldn't be the truth, but... I don't have to hand him all the keys, do I? He already knows how to play me most of the time, and I let him because I know that I'm safe with him and – let's not forget that particular fact – I'm a fucking dyke. Mel would be so proud.

Apparently I did manage to keep my mawkish thoughts to myself, because he doesn't tease me or anything like that. Instead, he moans and if his "Oh God, right there, Bri" is anything to go by, he's enjoying himself immensely. Well, he should. There are a lot of guys who would love to be in his place ... or in mine. I mean with a bubble butt like his... It seems to scream "Fuck me", and it fills me with just a little glee that I'm the only one now who knows him intimately.

He groans when I hit his prostate on my inward stroke and I smirk, repeating the movement. "Shit!" His voice is rough as if he's been screaming himself hoarse and I can't believe what a huge turn-on this is. "Brian ... please..." I just love it when he begs. And not because it shows me how much control I have over him, no. Him begging for more tells me that I'm still more than enough for him, that he won't leave for someone younger any time soon. Yes, I know that thought is completely fucked, but I can't help it. My life had been all about being young and beautiful, and it's hard to let go of old habits. 'Yeah, right. Like you didn't give up most of them already, Kinney, and happily so.' Well, I guess I did.

Justin turns his head and whispers, "Don't. Don't go there..." Fuck. This time he caught me. He knows me far too well. But then again, at times I think he doesn't know me well enough. He reaches for my face, his body held at an angle that can't be comfortable, and places butterfly kisses on my cheeks, my forehead, even my nose. And then finally his lips cover mine, and our tongues slide together, and something in me snaps. All coherent thoughts flee at the onslaught of renewed desire and I can only touch and feel and hang on for dear life. Our fingers twine, and we're holding on to each other as we reach the peak together. I suppose this is what Mikey was talking about when I asked him if it didn't get boring to fuck one person only. And he said that it was actually more intense because making love didn't only see to your physical needs, but also your emotional ones. Back then I thought he was high or something. But he wasn't. And it only took me two years and maybe five months to figure it out. 'You were always rather fast on the uptake...' Oh, do shut up!

---

Justin

In the weeks after our little holiday, the tension grew to an extent that I was sure I'd be able to cut the air around Brian – and Mom, Daph, Mel and Linz – with a knife. And it was driving me crazy. Especially after Em – yes, Emmett Honeycutt – started to drop hints. Brian let him in on the big secret, and that was just wrong on so many levels that I didn't even want to think about it. And I'll never forgive Cynthia. After a number of futile attempts with Mel – the mother of my daughter! – I thought I could try to get something out of Brian's trusted assistant. But no! She kept to her I am a mute act. Fuck her. And fuck Brian for doing this. Actually – fuck Brian. Period. Yesterday was his birthday – and yes, he survived turning thirty two without any queening and was in fact quite charming during the family lunch Linz, Em and I had been planning for weeks. So today is the anniversary of... Fuck it all. And apparently he figured today was a good day to piss me off. Smooth, Kinney. Real smooth.

After waking me at an ungodly hour – eight o'clock on a Sunday, he must be out of his fucking mind – he told me I had to run over to the loft cause he'd forgotten something there last week. Something he'd be needing today. What the fuck. Maybe he rented an Easter bunny costume or something like that. Gus would love it, but I just don't think it's anything like that. Yes, he is a great father, and not only for Gus, but there's only so much he can take before he bursts. And a bunny costume is just ... out of the fucking question. Anyway, he has at least the decency to promise that he'd prepare breakfast while I ran his errand. But the way he said it only managed to make my anger go up another notch. It's times like this that I really and truly hate him.

I was so mad, I actually showered on my own. And that hasn't happened since ... since the whole Ethan-mess when I took showers without Brian to get rid of Ethan's smell – and to beat myself up about it all. That's not something I want to think about, least of all today. Suddenly, the anger is all but gone, and I join Brian in the kitchen to kiss him goodbye. He gives me a funny look, and then smiles his tender smile – and I'm falling in love with him all over again. Shit! And he calls Mikey pathetic. I'm still shaking my head at myself when I get off the elevator and open the door of the loft. And then I freeze. The door is unlocked and the fucking alarm is off. Oh fuck. Is it possible that I forgot to lock up Friday night? I had been working on my birthday gift for Brian, adding a few finishing touches to the portrait of Gus he had asked me to make him for his office. But, I swear to God, I did lock up. And I set the alarm. Fuck it!

But before I can really freak out, I'm being drawn inside and someone – later I realise that it's Mel – is putting a steaming mug into my hand and pushes me up the steps to the bedroom. That's where Linz is waiting. And the Armani suit Brian got me in Paris. What the fuck is going on? "We are working on a schedule here, so get moving." That's Mel. 'Why, hello to you, too. How's my beautiful daughter? And what are you doing here...' But I'm not saying anything like that. I'm too curious to find out what this is all about. "Now put on that suit or I'm setting Jenny on you..." And that is a threat if I ever heard one. Jenny's been rather difficult of late – except with Brian. And that's fucking unfair! He's not her father after all! "Justin, get moving!" Her tone doesn't leave any room for arguments. Linz snickers and moments later, I'm in the bathroom, dressing up for whatever Brian has planned. Cause if one thing is certain it's his involvement. He's the mastermind behind it all.

Only when I get back to the bedroom do I notice that Mel and Linz are also in what Brian would call their evening rags, and especially Linz looks simply stunning – for a woman. "Oh my God, look at you!" Mel is fawning, and I remember that it's not the first time. She was just like that when I came down the stairs at Deb's in my tux on that night two years ago. But today I'm not wearing a tuxedo. I think I'd have really freaked out... Mel is hugging me and kisses my cheek while Linz gets out her camera to take a photo or two. Fuck. This whole thing is just too surreal and I'd give anything – well, almost anything – to find out what Brian's been planning. And why he signed up Mel and Linz for it. Especially Mel. Yes, they are no longer trying to kill each other whenever they are forced to spend some time together. But still...

"You look so beautiful, Justin." Well, I guess. Else Brian wouldn't have gotten the suit for me, right? "That greyish blue sets off your eyes and..." Oh shit. The waterworks are on, and Mel is rolling her eyes while petting her dearly beloved. "I'm ... I'm sorry, Justin. I just ... I never thought I'd live to see the day..." Mel mumbles "Neither did I" and I'm really getting annoyed here. I hate this whole I know something you don't shit they are pulling on me here. I want to know what's going on. Now! But Linz shakes her head. "That would be telling. Besides, a certain party would kill us if we disclosed anything."

Mel hands me my Prada shoes – the ones we got at that store in Paris, the store with the unnerving attendant. "Go on, get it over with so we can get it over with." She grins and I can see that she's enjoying this immensely. Great. Just great. And she's the mother of my child. Perfect really. "Now get your ass in gear cause, as I was saying before, we are working on a schedule here." She takes a look at her wrist watch and sighs, "And we're running late already. So move!" We do. Mel snatches my car keys from me, and Linz ushers me into the Sharan and we're off. To one of the rich and WASPish neighbourhoods. Richer than the one I grew up in. Mel is grumbling all the way. "I swear if he did any damage to our children, I'm going to rip his balls off." Linz glares at her, but she just shrugs, "What? It's true. You know how bossy he can get, particularly when he's nervous. And despite his cool behaviour, I know he must be scared shitless today..." Did I mention that I want to know what the fuck's going on here? Yes? Good.

About ten minutes later, we pull into a driveway and stop in front of a fucking palace. Mom and Daph are there to greet us. As is Emmett. He's bouncing. Oh shit. Brian will have a fit when he sees. Especially when Emmett draws me into a hug and kisses my cheek. "Oh honey, I'm so happy for you!" Okay. I know what happened. I'm having a fucking nightmare. Or I somehow ended up in an alternative universe where everyone went fucking crazy. Yup. Must be one of the two. Because this – this whole damn thing... It can't be real, can it? But just when I start willing myself to wake up, I hear something that tells me that this is, indeed, the real world.

"Get your hands off of him or I'm cutting them off, Honeycutt. This is the last warning!" And suddenly Emmett's arms are replaced by Brian's, and he smiles at me, his hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. "See, I told you I forgot something at the loft. And now you're wearing it. Seems like the girls who munch are good for something after all." Mel gives him the finger, but he shrugs it off. "By the way, Sunshine. Weren't you complaining about Jenny? She was a little angel, all happy and smiling and..." And what exactly did you give her, huh? Some E? Or did you make her smoke some pot? He kisses me softly, almost reverently, and when he draws back, he's whispering against my lips, "Let's get moving, cause we're..." I finish for him that we're working on a schedule, and add that I'd love to know what sort of a schedule that is. "Oh, Emmett is going to explain. And he will keep his hands to himself." With that, Brian lets go of me and I turn to Em.

Who beams. Just like Mom and Daph. And the Munchers. Shit! Em smiles and winks and then motions to me to follow him. "Brian's right. We are working with a timeframe here. So, without further ado I would like to welcome you to your Commitment Ceremony..."