Fic: QAF "Back to the Beginning" (3/9)
Title:Back to the Beginning (3/9)
Rating: PG (getting warmer)
Summary: Justin remembers what happened the last time he saw Brian.
Disclaimer: Not mine, damnit. The characters of QAF belong to CowLip and Showtime.
Earlier installments: One, Two
Flakes of snow flew past the window at 150 miles an hour, the rush of the wind silent behind the thick panes of shielded plastic that made up the windows on the DC-10. The plane was descending, lowering itself through the flurries that swirled towards the Pittsburgh airport. Justin usually rented a car and drove from New York when he came back, since it gave him a set of wheels to get around the Pitts while he was there, but there wasn’t any time today. No time to waste. He had to get back to Brian.
He’s gonna give me that scowl like I’ve done something wrong, then take my head off for coming back for such a pathetic reason. Justin could already hear Brian’s clipped tones, imagined the words he’d say to cut the twink down to size.
But Justin wasn’t a twink anymore. Not really.
Sure, he still had a face that made him seem seven or eight years younger than his 26 years, and not one in a series of changing haircuts ever seemed to get him to look older than 22 or 23, max. But for anyone who considered his eyes, well, his eyes told a different story. The blue there wasn’t unadulterated joy from a carefree life, but something much older. Darker. He’d known pain. Someone who suffered lived behind those eyes. There was more than a hint of anger to go with the sadness, too. If you could see into them long enough.
Usually Justin didn’t let people get so close that they could read his eyes that well. Only a few people knew him like that. His mother. Daphne. Debbie. After a time, Lindsay. All the women who wanted to mother him and wrap him up in cotton wool, until he finally broke free from them all, to make his own way in the world.
And Brian.
Oh yes, Brian could look at him and know in an instant just which way the wind blew with Justin. They’d last seen each other at Thanksgiving, Justin back to visit Molly and his mom and his second family for a few days of holiday cheer. Brian was up to his eyeballs in work on Wednesday and Thursday, so the first time their paths crossed was at Debbie’s, both of them handed a heaping plate of food and shooed into the living room to eat with the gang. They’d ended up sitting next to each other on the hideous banana yellow couch and every time their thighs brushed against each other, Justin would’ve sworn the fabric of his jeans couldn’t get any tighter. He kept the plate firmly planted on his lap to hide the evidence of an erection he couldn’t get to go away, and thought he’d fooled everybody until Brian leaned over and whispered, “C’mon.” The tall dark-haired man stood up and walked out of the room, pulling on his leather jacket and striding for the back door, leaving Justin half-staring at his back and Emmett giving Ted a look that said ‘some things never change’ as the others continued conversations about parades, Christmas shopping, and a lot of other inane topics that obviously bored Brian stiff.
Justin couldn’t even remember walking out of the room. One look, one word, one touch, and he was gone, mindblown. That’s how it always was and how it seemingly always would be between the two of them. He closed the back door behind him, more snow drifting down as he scanned the backyard for Brian. The high wooden gate into the back alley stood open, and he went through it, instinct telling him to close the gate afterwards.
As he did, a long arm reached out for him, pulling him towards the darkness, but Justin didn’t panic. He knew what would happen next, and it couldn’t happen soon enough for him. Rough hands pulled his face into Brian’s, two pairs of lips met, and suddenly the fire reignited in his belly, that need to grind his body into Brian’s until there was nothing left of either one of them but cinders and ash. He barely felt the snowflakes that melted against his cheeks because Brian was turning the flames up higher, one hand already under Justin’s turtleneck, stroking his belly, wrapping around his waist, their bodies pasted against each other as twin bulges rode against each other through two pairs of jeans.
“I’ve mis-“ He never finished the sentence, cut off when Brian’s tongue renewed its assault on the back of his mouth, the need so desperate he could feel it coming off the older man in waves. The hunger surged through him, the urgency to have everything like it was, Brian wanting him so much that he’d do anything. The arm around Justin’s chest wouldn’t give, holding him tight, while Brian’s other hand was thrust into his hair, clutching the back of his head and holding it so the man could kiss Justin into oblivion. Everything about Brian was laid bare in that kiss: wanton. Eager. Beyond speaking because he needed Justin so much.
Who needs words when actions speak so much louder? Justin’s hands pushed underneath the jacket, found the bottom of Brian’s shirt and slid it up, making Brian shiver in their non-stop kiss. “Fuckin’ cold hands,” the man muttered against Justin’s lips, but he didn’t knock them away. Nor did he stop kissing Justin, their mouths locked together as they tried to stay warm amidst an ongoing snowfall. The heat rising off of Brian’s body warmed Justin’s hands quickly, as one palm rode against Brian’s waist, the other hand drifting up to find his smooth pec, fingertips grazing against a nipple gone erect from the cold.
The hot thrusting tongue-war slowed down for a moment, when Justin paused for air, and they leaned foreheads against one another, the urgent need to be reconnected somehow satisfied with a kiss that melted the snow three feet in every direction. Hazel eyes raised to meet blue ones, almost embarrassed at having a secret-that-wasn’t-a-secret discovered one more time. Yeah, Brian missed him alright. Even in the darkness, Justin could make out the grim happiness in Brian’s smile.
“Stay with me.”
“Okay.”
For the next 36 hours, Justin didn’t see much of anybody else. Jennifer wisely said nothing, the next morning simply handing Brian his duffel bag through the loft doorway with a half-smile. Then she reached up, touching Brian’s cheek, gave the unshaved stubble a gentle touch with her fingers, and left. Brian looked down at the duffel, then up again to watch her going down the steps, before he shut the loft door again.
After they made love the next time, Brian curled around Justin’s back, arms holding him close. “You’re gonna have to rejoin the rest of the world, y’know. Much as I’d like to keep you in this bed for the whole weekend.”
“I know.” Justin looked back, over his shoulder, and added, “But I’d rather be here.”
++++++++++++
The harsh jolt of the plane touching down brought Justin back from his memories. He and Brian had parted happily in November, still wanting each other, each still needing that -something- that the other could give. The something that made him feel more alive than he did 99% of the rest of the time.
He didn’t know what he could do to help Brian while he was here, but Justin knew with absolute certainty that this was where he had to be. He’d left his apartment in such a hurry that afternoon, he had only a knapsack of belongings jammed into the overhead compartment to carry off the plane. The one thing he needed was safe, on his keychain: the key to Brian’s loft. Anything else he needed, he could find in Pittsburgh. Fuck New York.
Four
Rating: PG (getting warmer)
Summary: Justin remembers what happened the last time he saw Brian.
Disclaimer: Not mine, damnit. The characters of QAF belong to CowLip and Showtime.
Earlier installments: One, Two
Flakes of snow flew past the window at 150 miles an hour, the rush of the wind silent behind the thick panes of shielded plastic that made up the windows on the DC-10. The plane was descending, lowering itself through the flurries that swirled towards the Pittsburgh airport. Justin usually rented a car and drove from New York when he came back, since it gave him a set of wheels to get around the Pitts while he was there, but there wasn’t any time today. No time to waste. He had to get back to Brian.
He’s gonna give me that scowl like I’ve done something wrong, then take my head off for coming back for such a pathetic reason. Justin could already hear Brian’s clipped tones, imagined the words he’d say to cut the twink down to size.
But Justin wasn’t a twink anymore. Not really.
Sure, he still had a face that made him seem seven or eight years younger than his 26 years, and not one in a series of changing haircuts ever seemed to get him to look older than 22 or 23, max. But for anyone who considered his eyes, well, his eyes told a different story. The blue there wasn’t unadulterated joy from a carefree life, but something much older. Darker. He’d known pain. Someone who suffered lived behind those eyes. There was more than a hint of anger to go with the sadness, too. If you could see into them long enough.
Usually Justin didn’t let people get so close that they could read his eyes that well. Only a few people knew him like that. His mother. Daphne. Debbie. After a time, Lindsay. All the women who wanted to mother him and wrap him up in cotton wool, until he finally broke free from them all, to make his own way in the world.
And Brian.
Oh yes, Brian could look at him and know in an instant just which way the wind blew with Justin. They’d last seen each other at Thanksgiving, Justin back to visit Molly and his mom and his second family for a few days of holiday cheer. Brian was up to his eyeballs in work on Wednesday and Thursday, so the first time their paths crossed was at Debbie’s, both of them handed a heaping plate of food and shooed into the living room to eat with the gang. They’d ended up sitting next to each other on the hideous banana yellow couch and every time their thighs brushed against each other, Justin would’ve sworn the fabric of his jeans couldn’t get any tighter. He kept the plate firmly planted on his lap to hide the evidence of an erection he couldn’t get to go away, and thought he’d fooled everybody until Brian leaned over and whispered, “C’mon.” The tall dark-haired man stood up and walked out of the room, pulling on his leather jacket and striding for the back door, leaving Justin half-staring at his back and Emmett giving Ted a look that said ‘some things never change’ as the others continued conversations about parades, Christmas shopping, and a lot of other inane topics that obviously bored Brian stiff.
Justin couldn’t even remember walking out of the room. One look, one word, one touch, and he was gone, mindblown. That’s how it always was and how it seemingly always would be between the two of them. He closed the back door behind him, more snow drifting down as he scanned the backyard for Brian. The high wooden gate into the back alley stood open, and he went through it, instinct telling him to close the gate afterwards.
As he did, a long arm reached out for him, pulling him towards the darkness, but Justin didn’t panic. He knew what would happen next, and it couldn’t happen soon enough for him. Rough hands pulled his face into Brian’s, two pairs of lips met, and suddenly the fire reignited in his belly, that need to grind his body into Brian’s until there was nothing left of either one of them but cinders and ash. He barely felt the snowflakes that melted against his cheeks because Brian was turning the flames up higher, one hand already under Justin’s turtleneck, stroking his belly, wrapping around his waist, their bodies pasted against each other as twin bulges rode against each other through two pairs of jeans.
“I’ve mis-“ He never finished the sentence, cut off when Brian’s tongue renewed its assault on the back of his mouth, the need so desperate he could feel it coming off the older man in waves. The hunger surged through him, the urgency to have everything like it was, Brian wanting him so much that he’d do anything. The arm around Justin’s chest wouldn’t give, holding him tight, while Brian’s other hand was thrust into his hair, clutching the back of his head and holding it so the man could kiss Justin into oblivion. Everything about Brian was laid bare in that kiss: wanton. Eager. Beyond speaking because he needed Justin so much.
Who needs words when actions speak so much louder? Justin’s hands pushed underneath the jacket, found the bottom of Brian’s shirt and slid it up, making Brian shiver in their non-stop kiss. “Fuckin’ cold hands,” the man muttered against Justin’s lips, but he didn’t knock them away. Nor did he stop kissing Justin, their mouths locked together as they tried to stay warm amidst an ongoing snowfall. The heat rising off of Brian’s body warmed Justin’s hands quickly, as one palm rode against Brian’s waist, the other hand drifting up to find his smooth pec, fingertips grazing against a nipple gone erect from the cold.
The hot thrusting tongue-war slowed down for a moment, when Justin paused for air, and they leaned foreheads against one another, the urgent need to be reconnected somehow satisfied with a kiss that melted the snow three feet in every direction. Hazel eyes raised to meet blue ones, almost embarrassed at having a secret-that-wasn’t-a-secret discovered one more time. Yeah, Brian missed him alright. Even in the darkness, Justin could make out the grim happiness in Brian’s smile.
“Stay with me.”
“Okay.”
For the next 36 hours, Justin didn’t see much of anybody else. Jennifer wisely said nothing, the next morning simply handing Brian his duffel bag through the loft doorway with a half-smile. Then she reached up, touching Brian’s cheek, gave the unshaved stubble a gentle touch with her fingers, and left. Brian looked down at the duffel, then up again to watch her going down the steps, before he shut the loft door again.
After they made love the next time, Brian curled around Justin’s back, arms holding him close. “You’re gonna have to rejoin the rest of the world, y’know. Much as I’d like to keep you in this bed for the whole weekend.”
“I know.” Justin looked back, over his shoulder, and added, “But I’d rather be here.”
++++++++++++
The harsh jolt of the plane touching down brought Justin back from his memories. He and Brian had parted happily in November, still wanting each other, each still needing that -something- that the other could give. The something that made him feel more alive than he did 99% of the rest of the time.
He didn’t know what he could do to help Brian while he was here, but Justin knew with absolute certainty that this was where he had to be. He’d left his apartment in such a hurry that afternoon, he had only a knapsack of belongings jammed into the overhead compartment to carry off the plane. The one thing he needed was safe, on his keychain: the key to Brian’s loft. Anything else he needed, he could find in Pittsburgh. Fuck New York.
Four