Chapter 42 - The End of Life as We Know It...

Justin

My coffee's cold by now, but I'm still drinking it because Brian wanted me to have it. Which is funny, actually. Usually he's making fun about me drinking this stuff, telling me that the only thing it's good for is clogging my arteries. And normally I respond by informing him that he's just jealous he doesn't have my metabolism. And return to my lovely White Chocolate Mocha or whatever else I'm just having. Today it was he who got me my sugar high in a cup, and if that doesn't tell me just how rattled he really is... "It's your partner, right?" Why do old grannies seem to spring out of the ground wherever we go? And why the fuck do they always want to get involved? Well, maybe I can get her off my back by... I raise my left hand, and she blinks and then fucking smiles. "Your husband, then... I think it's wonderful to see more and more gays and lesbians getting married. Even though our laws aren't acknowledging their union..."

I so do not want to hear this right now. But I'm a good little WASP and let her blabber about how her daughter had been married to a man, and how she has two lovely grandchildren. But that daughter-dear finally came out and divorced her husband and is now living happily with her female partner. If she expects me to tell her how great this is, she's sadly fucking mistaken. Because I know the other side of the medal. And not just from personal experience. Just look at Linz and her precious sister. Their parents were prepared to pay for three hetero weddings, but weren't even willing to help Mel and Linz when they planned their commitment ceremony. It was amazing to watch Brian taking control of the whole thing. Well, not very different from our own little ceremony... Except that Brian allowed Emmett to help out. I'm not going to cry again, no way! But my fingers stray to the platinum band, and I'd really love to know what's taking so fucking long!

Granny is finally leaving me alone after realising that I wasn't going to respond, and I'm thanking God for small favours. I think we have to add a new category to Brian's Types of Straight People doctrine – Straight people who are so supportive of queers that it's fucking sickening! I think Deb and Mom would be prime examples of that type. Seriously. The first time Mom joined the Pride parade and Deb had made that shirt... I just know that Mom had gotten one as well. Luckily I could stop her from wearing it. My Gay Son Makes Me So Proud – I'd have died had she been walking around in that thing. And Brian wouldn't have let me live that one down, either. "Oh, little Jussie makes his Mommy so proud. How cute. Little Jussie and his Mommy are going to walk hand in hand and there will be butterflies flying all around them..." Yup, that sounds about right. He's such a fucker. And what wouldn't I give to be the victim of his wit right now?

Fuck! I give up on my coffee and I'm just returning to my seat after throwing the cup into a bin when the door opens again and... Shit! He looks as if someone had told him his favourite kittie had just died. But like I told him, we'll make it through this. We have to! He hardly acknowledges me and passes me with that stony face of his that never bodes well. I'm about to follow him when the nurse stops me, "You're Mr Kinney's partner, yes? Well, I just wanted to check his billing info with him one last time..." His billing info?! He's got fucking cancer and this little bimbo is worried about his billing info? 'Think WASPish thoughts, Justin. She's just doing her job.' So I smile at her, and give her our address again, and then I'm out of there before she can come up with anything else. You know, like, "You're Justin Taylor, right? Oh, I so loved your show last year, but I never thought you'd be this young..." Cause then I would have to tell her that there's another show coming up, and make small talk, and that's the last thing on my mind right now.

So I practically run out of there, and finally find Brian by the car. Holding out his hand. Fuck! I still have the keys. But he's not climbing into the driver's seat. Well, no wonder. A few moments later, we're sitting side by side, the key in the ignition lock, but I just can't start the car yet. My hands are fucking shaking. I really wish he'd say something, anything... So we could start coping with this shit. And then he does. "Justin... Life as we know it is over." Shit! Damn it all. And there's no way I can stop the waterworks now. "What the fuck are you crying over? Huh? It is I who's forced to be celibate for the next couple of days..." Excuse me?! "Never, never grow yourself a cyst and let those idiots drain it. Cause it fucking hurts. And, as if that's not enough, they then proceed to tell you that you have to take it easy for the rest of the week. That you're not to overexert yourself. That you are not allowed to have sex!"

One second... A cyst? A fucking cyst?! "Brian... Are you trying to tell me that you're okay? That it wasn't cancer? That you're just queening out because you won't be able to fuck me for a few days?!" He gives me his I'm-going-to-die-here look, and I'm losing it. "You fucker! Do you have any idea how worried I was when you came out of the doc's office with that expression on your face?! I thought you were fucking dying! That I'd lose you. And it was just you being you because you were told to keep your dick to yourself for a bit. Fuck!" I'm pissed, and I know that this is not a state you should drive in, but what the hell?! It's loads better than the state I was in earlier. And you know what this asshole is doing? His pouting routine. Arms crossed over his chest, lower lip sticking out... He looks more like Gus than himself when he's doing this. He's fucking unbelievable. Which is why I'm turning towards him right after I pull up in front of Britin. "Get a grip, would you? You'll be okay, you'll be just fine!"

I'm on the receiving end of this indignant look which tells me that he thinks I'm such a moron. "Which part of 'celibate for a few days' didn't you get? I don't know about you, but for me that's something serious! And did I mention that it fucking hurts? Like someone is repeatedly kicking you in the balls..." Ouch! And then he turns really serious, and... "It was a close call. A few weeks or months more, and it could have turned into something malignant. You ... you probably saved me from becoming a one-ball wonder." Before I can ask if they are sure that everything's gonna be fine now, he adds, "And I might die yet... Once they figured who I am – I mean, what kind of money I have – they did each and every test they could think of. Might have invented one or two as well in order to get as much cash out of me as possible. And when I get that bill I'll probably have a heart attack... But until then, I'm as good as new. Apart from the pain and the celibate thing..."

He gives me that boyish smile – the one Gus always uses when he's done something he shouldn't have – and I know I have two options now. I can either throw my arms around him because everything's gonna be alright – and why do I sound like a fucking song right now? – or I can choose to give him the silent treatment because he scared me shitless. But I think I know why he did it. First of all, he was just as frightened as I was – if not more – and needed a few to take everything in. And secondly, he knows me too well. He knows that I would have made one of those totally embarrassing scenes had he told me right away. After all, I hadn't exactly managed to keep my anxiety from him... Shit. So I'm choosing my third option. "Well, then I'd better pay that particular bill myself..."

The earns me a chuckle. "Oh yeah? You wouldn't use my credit card for that by any chance?" He's such a fucker! Why the fuck am I still with him, huh? "Justin... I ... I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have tried to push you away. I just..." He's running his fingers through his hair, and I ... I have my answer. I'm still with him because I love him, and because he allowed me to witness him change into this wonderful – if sometimes irritating – man who's sitting next to me right now. "Shit! Last year I got shot, this year I'm barely evading the big C ... I wonder what the fates have in store for me..." Okay, I had to stop his little pity-fest right there. And what better way to do it than with a tongue down his throat. After a few minutes, he's pushing me away, glaring daggers. "Will you just cut it out? We can't fuck, remember? Shit! I'm not even allowed to jerk off until, and I quote, 'your body has healed itself'. Personally, I think Dr. Franklin is just pissed because he doesn't get sex on a regular basis, but we're talking about my balls here... So I don't want to take any chances..."

I really want to tell him that he's so full of shit and stuff, but I can't. He's right, after all. About not taking any chances, that is. The rest ... well, that's just Brian being Brian. He's unbuckling his seatbelt, and slowly gets out of the jeep. Shit, he truly must be in severe pain. Not that a part of me isn't cheering at the sight of him – it's less than he deserves for pulling this lovely stunt... And once he's better, he'll pay. But for the time being... He's at the door, fishing for his keys, when I catch up with him. "Let me..." And he doesn't snap at me for treating him like an invalid. He just steps back and leans against the wall. Holy fucking shit. "You know, I can skip class if you want me to..." I think I deserved that particular death glare. Then he heads into the house and I'm betting with myself that he'll end up in the study – a joint in one, a shot of Beam in the other hand. And I've never been so wrong in my life.

I find him lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. "I was so sure, so fucking sure, that it would be cancer. That I'd have to pay for the last year..." And this isn't one of Brian's pity-fests like the one he had in the car. He's dead-serious. And fuck if I can't understand where he's coming from. His childhood aside, the time I've known him provides me with sufficient reasons for me to realise why he believes this shit. Whenever things went really well, something bad happened right away. He's finally ready to try this relationship-thing with me – wham, I get bashed in the head. He makes partner and wants to share it with me, and not with Mikey – I'm off to Vermont and eventually leave him. For about sixteen hours... We get back together and he's all but telling me that he loves me – Ethan shoots him. And now this shit...

"Don't go there, okay? Cause it's not true. Shitty things just happen – to all of us. And it's not because we have to pay for anything. It's part of life..." I can see that he's not convinced, so I add, "You know, it's like meeting the love of your life and that bastard tells you he doesn't believe in all this romantic bullshit, only in fucking. And that all you were was last night's fuck... And he sends you off, and you're crying your eyes out like the stupid little faggot you probably are. But then you think, 'Screw him and his beliefs,' and you start to stalk him. And it doesn't only get you back into his bed, but also into his heart." I grin, and he rolls his eyes. But I can see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And he had all these rules he fucking loved, but he breaks them all for you. And in the end, he even puts a lovely platinum ring on your..."

"...cock!" I punch him in the chest as he pushes his tongue into his cheek. "You know, that guy sounds like a loser." Yeah, right. "Fighting the inevitable, scared of his own feelings... Pathetic, really. You aren't talking about Mikey, are you?" He wiggles his eyebrows, and I have to kiss him now. It starts out slow and innocent enough – just a brush of lips, and a little lick here and there. But I hadn't made up that fucking no kissing rule because a kiss like this is as good as is could get. And soon the kiss turns into much more, and our tongues struggle for dominance, fingers burrowing into hair and clothes, and I'm so hard it hurts. That's exactly the moment he breaks away. "You little piece of shit! No fucking, okay?!" I know I'm pushing it, but I'm telling him that I'm perfectly healthy, so I've no reason to get blue balls. He doesn't strangle me. He just looks at me in a rather strange way, and I feel like the proverbial deer caught in his gaze, not some stupid headlights, no. "Do I have to remind you? In sickness and in health... So you will share my fate, and that's final!" And I start to smirk...

---

Brian

The fucking bastard has waltzed off to P.I.F.A. – in my car no less – about an hour ago, wearing this smug expression. Which is how I knew what he'd been up to while taking that oh so needed shower. Fucker! And then he had to go and flaunt... No, not that word. Justin simply doesn't do flaunting. But he still made sure I noticed what was up – or rather, what wasn't up anymore. Of course, my own cock was appalled. I mean, Justin had jerked off and it hadn't been around? So it decided to pout. In other words ... I couldn't get rid of my boner even when I pictured the Munchers going at it. I was fucking right – life as we know it is over, and my fucking husband is a sadist! He's getting far too much of a kick out of this...

Then again – maybe I deserve it. After all, he was close to freaking out when I left him in the waiting area, and then... Fuck! He must have thought I was going to... 'Smart move, Kinney. Really smart move.' And I can't believe I took this long to figure it out. I knew he was pissed, but I thought that was because I made such a fuss about the celibate thing. Which is actually a compliment to him. Shit. I hit bull's-eye when calling this love of his life guy pathetic. That little speech of his – I was such a fool back then, can't quite understand why he never lost faith – apart from his fiddler-induced insanity spell. And he made a fucking point. Since I refuse to believe that he instigated any of the shit that happened, I guess I didn't cause the rain, either. Sure, we helped matters along, but neither of us swung that bat or pulled the trigger ... or put a goddamn cyst into my ball.

Did I mention that it fucking hurts? Now more than before since the sedative is wearing off. Dr. Franklin – my new nemesis – said I should be thankful. Because it's not cancer... Sure thing! I'm fucking thrilled that I can't fuck Justin's brains out in celebration. And that I feel like that time right after Justin moved in with me, and Linz wanted me to accept this stupid Hero Award of the GLC. My balls felt her grip for hours. If not days. And she had to do it in front of Mel ... and Gus! Fuck. If I'm lucky, this will be one of his earliest memories. And that's when Mommy grabbed Dada by his balls... Charming. Really charming. Actually, I don't think Gus will remember it, no. But Mel will tell him. Will drop it casually into the conversation when he asks her to tell him about the day he walked for the first time. And that will be the moment when he'll stop thinking that I'm such a cool dad. Yeah, I should be so lucky. It's more probable that he realises what a pathetic loser I am much earlier – courtesy of Justin.

My stomach lets me know that it doesn't like lazing around any longer – yes, my stomach can growl as well, I just never get to hear it because of the bottomless pit I'm living with. So I get off the sofa – ouch, ouch, ouch – and order some take-out. Pizza. Because my nemesis told me to eat properly while I was healing. Fuck! Justin will love doctor-dear. And I'm wondering why the fuck I need to heal. I mean, it wasn't cancer, right? It was just a cyst. Nothing major. And they drained it. End of story. But sticking a needle in my ball – not a small one like they did when they wanted to do the biopsy, but a fucking large one like those they use for rabies shots – is apparently something you need to recover from. And then there's the pills I've to take just to make sure it all disappears into nothing. I swear, if my ball disappears with the cyst, I'm going to sue!

The delivery guy looks kind of sad to see me open the door. Yeah, right. Justin is always half-starved when the food gets here, so he's tipping those lovely people who bring him food in a way that makes me roll my eyes. If the pizza is $12, you don't hand out twenty dollar notes and say, "The rest is for you." You just don't! And it's not like he's wasting his money! We have a shared account, so... But that thought makes me grin. I think he was close to having a fit when I brought it up after I made partner. He just hated the idea of me paying his way. I calmly informed him that we are partners, and he should get his head out of his ass – so I could put something else inside it. That shut him up. And he signed the papers without a fuss. Well, he was probably too tired from being fucked into the mattress to put up a fight.

I'm sitting on a stool in the kitchen and want to ram my head into a wall or two. I had to think of that night, yes? Was that really necessary? Cause my dick liked the thought, and seems to be very interested in an encore. Okay, this calls for desperate measures. And yes, the picture of Ted having sex is really a fucking turn-off. But how the fuck am I going to survive this week without... Saturday at the earliest. That's like three and a half fucking days! Not the longest Justin and I have gone without fucking. But back then, I was still tricking rather happily, thinking I needed this shit. And I had my hand at my disposal. Now, I have neither of the two. And if Justin's actions before he headed out are anything to go by, he's no intention of making this any easier for me. Shit, I need a drink. But I can't have that either. Because it's bad for my healing. Oh, and I can't get stoned. This is just great.

Cynthia calls some time in the afternoon, and she's so happy that everything will be okay and that I should stop queening over the celibate thing. I inform her that my fucking husband is doing shit to help me, and what she says next gets me thinking. "Do you really think he did anything without you?" Fuck! The little shit was playing me. He took a shower alright – a cold one. "Now, can we pretend that we're both adults and talk about business?" I'm so going to fire her when I get back to the office next week. Or give her a raise. Whatever. "The new contracts for Brown came in, and I'm going to send them over to you so you can sign them." One of the joys of being a partner is the constant flow of papers you have to sign. I guess I didn't think that through when accepting Vance's offer. "Oh, and Eyeconics called – they have these new contact lenses, and they want something hot and stunning for it. Maybe you can ask Justin to come up with some ideas..." She just signed her own death warrant.

It's great that everyone thought it was funny – including Gardner. But I wasn't very happy about that particular presentation. First, Justin dropped the boards – okay, I had fucked him in the copy room about half an our before, and he hadn't had the chance to grab something to eat – but then he, our fucking intern, suggested a colour change to the lettering. Something I should have seen in the first place. The client was thrilled, and so was Vance, but I was fuming. And in the end, I was the one who had to suck up to Justin – in the most literal sense – because I had been snapping at him. The moment Cyn heard about it... Well, whenever Eyeconics call, she asks if she shouldn't get Justin... She's so fired! Because she's fucking right, and I will do a little brainstorming with Justin tonight – since fucking is out of the question. He's got an eye for things like this, and by the time he has his degree, he'll have plenty of job offers – only counting those from advertising agencies.

"Funny, Cynthia. You'll excuse me, but I think I'll laugh at a later point. So, do we have any material yet? If so, send it over as well. Oh, and tell Vance that my vacation has turned into a week of working at home." Gardner will love that. I'm out of his hair and still do my job. Well, maybe I was a little, um, irritable when he tried to tell me about how Bradley and Emmett... You get the picture. I really don't want to know anything about Ms Honeycutt's love life. Though that doesn't stop Justin from telling me about every little detail. He seems to think that because I endure having Emmett around, I'm actually interested in his life. Or that I think Em is my friend. Well, he ... is. But I'm not going to tell Justin.

"And before I forget, Michael called... I told him you're in a meeting, but you might want to ring him up. You should tell him, you know?" I tell her to mind her own fucking business, but she just giggles and hangs up. And I'm being a good boy and call Mikey. He just wants to know if Justin and I feel like Babylon tonight, and I'm coming up with some lame excuse, telling him that I've to work late and that sort of shit. He might realise that something's off, but he doesn't say anything. He just tells me that he loves me, and is gone.

Then Justin's home, and, smelling the pizza, comes into the kitchen right away. "Oh, we have food!" Yeah, like Chinese or Indian doesn't qualify as food. "What's the occasion?" I murmur something about having to eat this shit while my body heals, and he smiles broadly. "Oh, I like your new doctor. I have to call Eamon and thank him for recommending him. Means I get proper food." See, I knew it! I knew he'd make a fuss about this. The doorbell rings, and I get the contracts signed and send them right back, but drop the Eyeconics material in front of Justin. "What the fuck do you want me to do with that?" He raises his eyebrow and takes a bite of his second piece of pizza. I can't believe how quickly he'd heated it up again.

"Well, we can't fuck, so we'll work. And since you're still a freelancer for Vanguard..." He treats me to a Sunshine smile, and I'm amazed that he still gets so excited when I ask him for his input. I mean, he's fucking great, but does he know it? No. I guess it's this whole WASPish don't-think-too-much-of-yourself bullshit, and I swear I'm going to make him acknowledge his brilliance, and if it takes ages... "So, look through these when you stuff your face, and then come into the living room and tell me what you make of them." And we're still at it when the Monster announces that it needs to be fed again, and we're having a lovely little picnic on the floor once more, and it's almost okay that this is all we can do right now by way of celebrating. Almost.