TOWJWAGABI, Part 3
Here's Part 3, in it entirety.
The One Where Justin's With Another Guy, and Brian Interferes, Part 3
Before Jennifer Taylor died, Sunday was their day of sloth. If he wasn't on call, Dan got up early and ran then woke Justin with a decadent breakfast-omelets or ginger pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, sometimes French toast. Justin staggered downstairs without fail just as the coffee finished brewing. They traded sections of the Sunday New York Times and bumbled their way through the crossword puzzle.
Dan watched football or baseball or basketball, hockey or soccer or lacrosse, while Justin studied and sketched and made fun of Dan's butch obsession with sports, prompting Dan to demonstrate various moves and holds he'd used when he'd wrestled in high school.
There was plenty of time for fucking around and napping and more fucking around.
If they hadn't managed to finagle a dinner invitation out of anyone, Dan often put together an impressive spread, then declared Justin responsible for all of the remaining meals that week. Sometimes there was a small, quiet dinner at Jennifer's condo, and sometimes they made an appearance at the Forrester Family Dinner.
Dan now found it laughable that he'd been so hesitant to expose Justin to his family. It made sense enough early on. Charlie's reaction to Justin's age was a good indication of how the rest of the family would fall in, and Dan didn't particularly relish suffering the incessant jibes of his siblings and their spouses.
But there was more to it than that. While Dan would never characterize Justin as shy, he was quiet, and having spent an evening or two around the dinner table with Jennifer, Dan was sure his family would scare the shit out of Justin. An unheard request to pass the butter could segue into a blistering screaming match about the one time when Kate was 12 and Dan was six, and he scalped all of her Barbies and hung them by individual nooses from her bedroom window.
And although Dan and Charlie didn't have any kids, between Dan's two sisters and his other brother, there were nine kids, and most of them seemed to bring a friend or two with them to dinner. The house was always full, the walls reverberating with shouts of laughter and outrage, children crying, siblings fighting, parents refereeing.
But Justin actually enjoyed the chaos of those dinners. While he was still hesitant to join in the insanity, he appreciated it all-from the fawning interest of Dan's sisters and sisters-in-law to the crying baby to Charlie's oft-repeated observation that Justin was a mere three years older than their nephew Chas.
Justin happily fit himself into the bedlam with little difficulty which was fortunate, because the boisterous Forrester Family Dinner became a great antidote to the melancholy of Justin's Sundays after Jennifer's death.
Sunday was now a day of fulfilling obligations. Justin called his sister at 10:00 every Saturday morning, and they watched an episode of Spongebob SquarePants together. Justin tried to draw her out about her new school and life with his father, but she rarely had much to say about that. Craig Taylor had yet to get on the phone, not even to discuss issues of the estate. Those inquiries were always handled through an attorney.
Later in the day, Justin would sift through sympathy cards and gifts to his mother's memorial fund, then write thank-you notes to the donors. Jennifer had lost a brother to leukemia when she was young, and Justin chose to dedicate her memorial fund to several cancer charities. Justin made detailed notes of who donated what, then he mailed the list, along with the cards and condolences to his sister. He hoped as Molly grew older she would appreciate having that connection to her mother.
The cards and donations were now coming in more sporadically, but Sunday still seemed to be a day colored with an extra tinge of sadness.
One cold, rainy Sunday shortly after Brian Kinney made an appearance in their living room, Dan strolled into the media room eating an apple. "That was Ken. He and Jeff are barbecuing tonight if we're interested. Mom's ordering in from Pizza World. What sounds good?"
Justin said nothing as he sat there fingering a sympathy card.
"J, 'd'you hear me? Ken and Jeff's or Mom and Dad's?" Justin still didn't answer. Dan nudged him slightly with his hip. "What's up?"
Justin shook his head to clear the cobwebs and looked up at Dan with an apologetic smile. "Brian donated twenty-five hundred dollars to my mom's memorial fund," he said. "He must have gone back and found the obituary."
Dan read Brian's handwritten note over Justin's shoulder. The fierce way you care is a testament to your mother.
That sentiment was over the top as far as Dan was concerned. He'd always found Jennifer to be very reserved. That she loved Justin and wanted him to be happy was obvious, but there was a remoteness about her. She was gracious, always impeccably polite, but it was without an excessive amount of warmth.
Of course, much of that was Justin's doing. He was prickly with Jennifer, irritated at her attempts to mother him; irritated at himself for still valuing her opinion, especially when it didn't coincide with his own.
He wasn't quite through that phase of separating from his parents and their influence. Dan hadn't been particularly close with his own parents when he was Justin's age. It was only after he'd been out on his own for a few years that he'd grown to appreciate his parents, one adult to another.
It was a luxury Justin would never have and an additional source of guilt he certainly didn't need.
The day of her accident, Jennifer had invited Justin to lunch. She had to pick up a painting she'd had framed at a shop near the CM campus. Justin hadn't felt like going, so he declined, telling his mom he would pick up her picture and bring it over to her place the next day. He'd jokingly said that if Jennifer were to make brunch, he guessed he'd stay to eat it. She'd told him to bring Dan and then rang off.
Three hours later, Jennifer made a left turn at the intersection of her neighborhood grocery store and was struck broadside by a pick-up truck.
And now, two months later, Justin was still dealing almost daily with the ramifications of that careless split-second.
Dan gently rubbed his lover's back, unsure why Brian's donation was so perplexing to Justin. "Well, that was nice of him, right?" Dan said.
"Yeah," Justin agreed. "I just...don't know what to say to him."
Dan took a seat on the couch. "What do you mean? You're not going to give it back, are you?"
"Oh, no, huh uh," Justin said vaguely. "It's just...the thank you note. It sounds dumb. Generic." He handed the note to Dan.
Brian,
Thank you for the generous donation to my mother's memorial fund. The money will be used to fund cancer research as well as provide housing and other support for families dealing with the disease.
Best regards,
Justin
"That's fine," Dan said. It was generic, but what else was there to say?
Justin shrugged and sat down next to Dan, pulling Dan's arm around him which made Dan chuckle and tighten his hold for a second.
"It'll piss him off," Justin said, resting his head on Dan's shoulder.
Irritated at Brian's imagined upset, Dan snorted derisively. "What are you supposed to say? Dear Brian, you and your 12-inch cock are to be commended for your stunning display of selfless generosity..."
Justin turned to nuzzle Dan's neck. His chuff of laughter tickled the skin there. "You're getting warmer," he said dryly.
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It was a given that Brian would find himself back in the offices of McGinty & Schiff at some point, but it might not have been quite so soon if he hadn't been pissed about that fucking thank-you note.
What the fuck was that God damned, lame ass shit about? The fucker knew how to use a God damned fucking phone, didn't he? Maybe Justin's 500 year old sugar daddy limited the amount of time the youngster was allowed on the new fangled talking contraption.
Whatever the reason, it was fucking bullshit, and he wasn't going to God damned fucking stand for it either.
So after a perfunctory visit with Bill McGinty, Brian casually asked if Justin was working. Bill checked his watch. "Well, he's off the clock, but I bet he's still down in the art department. He doesn't have classes on Friday afternoons, so he usually takes pity on our overworked asses and stays late."
Brian tsk'd tsk'd. "Stealing work from the lowly intern, Bill? I'm shocked."
Bill laughed. "I toss a Starbucks gift card at the kid every couple of weeks. He always says I've given him a hell of a lot more than lattes, whatever that means."
Brian couldn't puzzle it out either, but he didn't really care. He wandered down to the art department and found Justin in one of the cubby holes reserved for lowly interns.
He stood just behind Justin and watched him put the finishing touches on a logo for soap. Or cheese. It was impossible to tell really. "Do you eat that or clean with it?" Brian asked, and to his credit, Justin didn't even flinch.
"I know," he said, sounding sadly resigned. He didn't turn around or acknowledge Brian, just kept working on the logo. "But the account exec has her heart set on this. What can you do?"
"Make a mental note to call on her client in a couple of months," Brian answered. He stood there silently, waiting for Justin to finish, but he was standing so close, Justin couldn't even roll his chair back from his desk. Eventually, Justin put down his stylus. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Brian then turned back to stare into his computer screen.
"Thanks again for the donation to my mom's memorial."
"Yes, I received your pleasant acknowledgement," Brian said evenly. "Best regards to you as well, by the way."
Brian could see Justin clench his jaw muscles, then take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Is there something you needed? I think Aaron is working on your stuff. He's in Philadelphia this week, but should be back on Monday."
"That's fine. This was more of a social call anyway."
Justin shrugged and returned to his logo. Brian pursed his lips in thought as he registered an unaccustomed flash of uncertainty. He'd thought he wanted to chastise Justin for sending him such a ridiculous note, but standing there in the face of Justin's bland demeanor, he wasn't sure what he'd hoped to accomplish.
Brian moved in a little closer so that every time Justin moved his hand on the screen he bumped Brian's hip or thigh. Several times, he tried to change the angle at which he sat, but Brian's foot next to the chair's wheels made it impossible to move. The tips of Justin's ears grew red, and Brian smiled, forgetting how fun it was to antagonize Justin from slow burn to eruption.
"Damn it!" Justin finally huffed, tossing the stylus across his desk. "Move or I'm not responsible for your fucking Italian loafers, all right?"
Hiding a grin behind his hand, Brian stepped back. "We're going to go have a cup of coffee."
"I can't just leave. I have to work."
"Bullshit," Brian said, tugging the chair back and tipping it forward so Justin had to either stand up or find himself sprawled on the floor. "Bill already told me you're working pro bono. Fucked up move, by the way. You do something for nothing you get a reputation as a guy who'll do something for nothing."
"I like to think of it as paying it forward," was Justin's snide reply, but he logged off the computer and reached for his portfolio case.
"Chop chop, Sonny Boy. Let's go."
As soon as they sat down with their drinks, Brian asked about the funeral, but Justin just shrugged and shook his head.
It took twenty minutes of silently sitting there nursing a cup of decaf before he finally opened up a little. Brian knew Justin would start talking eventually--silence always got to him after awhile, and he'd blabber on just to hear some noise.
"It's weird, but I hardly remember any of it," he said. "It's all dumb shit, like, Mrs. Kendall's hair was dyed so black it looked blue, and my aunt had a run in her hose. Molly was wearing this white dress with a pink belt that Mom got her for a school dance. That was sad, you know? She should have worn it to a dance, but she wore it to her mom's funeral instead."
"She doin' okay?" Brian asked.
Justin shrugged listlessly. "I guess. I think so. What's okay?" He slid his coffee cup back and forth across the table. "My dad's in Chicago now, so Molly's there. We talk on the phone every Sunday. I hope she's okay."
"Was he a total shithead?"
Justin's snort wasn't exactly amusement, but he made a wry face and said, "One thing I do remember about the funeral was the look on my dad's face when he realized Dan's father was Charles Forrester. Swear to God, he was, like, a thousand times nicer to me after that."
"Mmm," Brian nodded, recognizing the name of one of the big boys at Pittsburgh Steel.
"Dan's whole family came to the funeral," Justin said, and started to say more, but Brian interrupted.
"And your whole family would have been there too if we'd known."
Brian expected Justin to react with embarrassment and guilt, but he just nodded slowly, not so much agreeing as acknowledging the fact that Brian had said something.
"Deb's hurt you never saw fit to tell her," Brian continued when it became apparent that Justin had nothing more to add.
"I hadn't talked to anyone in months," Justin said. "It would've been ridiculous to pick up the phone and say, 'Hey, remember me? My mom just died!'"
"I never said she didn't understand. I said she was hurt."
"Well...I'm sorry then. I didn't mean to hurt her."
"Let's back up then," Brian said, leaning back in his seat. "Why just drop the fuck off the planet?"
"Just because I was off your radar doesn't mean I dropped off the planet," Justin said dismissively. "I was working, going to school..."
"Fucking geriatric cases. Yes, I can see you're living a very full life. But you've got room for a few old friends, don't you? I mean, fuck me, right?" Brian leaned down to catch Justin's eye and they shared a smile. "But Deb and Vic, the lovely lezzies, they want to see you."
Justin shoved Brian away and shrugged, but he kept smiling.
"Come to dinner on Sunday," Brian said. "Bring a loaf of French bread. Better yet, bring the old guy. The gang will get a kick out of that."
"I can't," Justin said shortly, then added, "Thanks."
"You can't as in you're not allowed or you can't as in you have other plans?"
Justin gave Brian a sour look and for an instant it seemed like he wasn't going to answer. "We usually eat at Dan's mom and dad's."
"Just the four of you? Oh that sounds delightful."
"More like 24," Justin said, then shrugged at Brian's inquisitive brow. "It's a big family."
"And I just bet they've embraced you with open arms, Sunshine, haven't they?"
"Why are you being so shitty?" Justin asked. "Yeah, they're nice. What, you think they should be crappy to me or something?"
He started to get up, but Brian reached for Justin's wrist and gently encircled it with his large hand, tugging lightly to keep Justin there. "No, they should be really good to you," he said softly. With a thumb, he lightly caressed the underside of Justin's wrist.
Justin grimaced in disgust at the involuntary flush that heated his face, and Brian felt an unsightly thrill of victory in his gut. He could still move Justin with his voice and his touch. That was never gonna fucking change no matter what Justin thought he wanted.
"You didn't have to disappear," Brian said. "Fuck me..."
"Brian, quit begging," Justin said and then gave a genuine laugh, and Brian felt like a parched man handed a tall drink of water.
Brian smirked and rolled his eyes. "I would have come around. You didn't have to drop everything."
Justin shrugged as his face grew more serious. "You could've just said you felt suffocated and wanted out. You didn't have to arrange to have me carted out of town like some fucking embarrassment you couldn't stand to have around."
"Yeah, well, I fucked up. So what the fuck is new? But at least I set you on a path to something extraordinary. The New York Art Institute is the fucking holy grail of art schools."
That obviously wasn't the right thing to say. Justin snorted scornfully. "Gosh, you know what? You're right! I guess I should have thanked you that in my pleasant little note."
"I was trying to make it okay for you. I was trying to give you a...a fucking direction."
Still not the right thing. "Fuck you! I didn't need any steering from you, I was doing fucking fine on my own. You just felt guilty that you didn't want to fuck with me anymore, and you didn't want me around as some fucking reminder of that."
"There you go, Sunshine. You have me all figured out, don't you?" Brian never did well when he felt backed into a corner. "Maybe if you'd listened to me, we wouldn't be sitting here now talking about all this shit, you ever think of that?"
Justin stilled until it seemed like he wasn't even breathing. He turned bright red and sat there for some time, just blinking rapidly. When he spoke it was in a dangerous voice that grew louder with his mounting fury. "Are you saying it's my fault my mom died? Because I didn't follow the fucking life plan you concocted for me? Fuck you, you asshole! Fuck you!"
Brian shut his eyes tightly and collapsed back in his seat. Jesus Christ, talk about fucking up. He sucked at this. Really, really sucked at it. "I didn't mean that," he said calmly, reaching out yet again to grab Justin's arm and keep him from escaping. "You know I didn't mean it like that. I just meant maybe you wouldn't be..."
"What?" Justin snapped.
Brian shrugged, a thousand words tumbling through his brain, but he could only lamely say, "Fucking geriatric cases for one."
Justin lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes-an indication of approaching danger. "Dan could be a hundred years old, and he'd still be amazing to me so shut the fuck up."
Now it was Brian's turn to nod, though not necessarily in agreement. "Just...damn it, Justin, come to dinner," he said, staring intently at him. "Tell me you'll come. I want to hear you say you'll be there"
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Dan was sitting down at his desk for the first time all day when his cell phone rang. Sighing at the files scattered all over, he checked the number display and grinned. "Hey J."
"Say something reasonable to me," Justin ordered.
Dan dutifully replied, "A diversified investment portfolio's rate of return should beat the rate of inflation by at least four percentage points."
Justin's chuckle widened Dan's grin. "Thanks," he said.
"You're an odd duck," Dan said.
Justin laughed and said, "What'd you say? I'm a hot fuck?"
Dan laughed too. "What's up?
"Nothing," Justin said, and Dan could picture the way he diffidently played with the phone cord while he geared up to contradict himself. "Brian was in the office today."
"Ahh," Dan said knowingly.
"Don't say ah like you already know what happened!" Justin barked.
"Don't give me a script to follow!" Dan shot back with equal sharpness. Tense silence reigned for a few beats, then Dan lowered his voice and said, "What happened?"
"Nothing," Justin said sourly. "He just...God, he, like, basically said that if I had just marched along and followed his fucking orders my mom wouldn't have died!"
It took Dan a few beats to respond. "Wow," he finally said. "That's how he's gonna get you to dump me and crawl back to him?"
Justin's surprised laughter made Dan laugh too. "Right after he was all, 'You know that's not what I meant,' but it's not like there's a thousand ways to interpret what the fuck he was saying, and I know I should have fucking gone to lunch! I'll take that part of it. One fucking hour out of my whole fucking life, I should have just gone, all right? But just because I didn't..."
"Justin," Dan gently interrupted. "Your mom died because some impatient asshole ran a red light. It was a really awful accident."
Justin took a shaky breath and said, "I know." He sighed heavily. "It's so fucking typical! We were talking, and...it was, nice, you know? And I'm thinking, he can be so...he makes me think we could be friends, and then he says this shit and it's like getting slammed with a...!"
Dan's beeper sounded shrilly, and he grabbed it with a muttered, "Damn it!"
"Shit, you've gotta go," Justin said quickly. "We'll talk later..."
"J, I don't want..."
Justin laughed but there wasn't much humor in it. "No, God. I'm being a fucking twat."
"That's him talking!" Dan said, immediately incensed. "That is bullshit, and you know it!" His beeper sounded again.
"You've gotta go," Justin repeated.
Dan sighed. "I'll be home around seven, okay? Eight o'clock tops."
"Later," Justin said, and they both disconnected.
It was past eleven when Dan wearily walked into the bedroom, tossing his jacket and tie on an easy chair then stripping off his pants and briefs. Naked, he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a piss, then he crawled into bed.
"You eat?" Justin asked sleepily.
"Yeah. What'd you have?"
Justin snickered. "Hot dog and mac 'n' cheese," he said.
Dan was always opening up the refrigerator after a late night and groaning about Justin's adolescent dinner leftovers. Now he laughed into the back of Justin's neck. "Mmm, sorry I missed it," he said.
"Me too," Justin said.
They laid there entwined for a little while, Dan placing a gentle kiss or two on Justin's neck and shoulder from time to time. Curious, Dan slipped his hand between them and slid down Justin's flank and then around, pushing a finger into Justin's asshole. He inhaled sharply, his body jerking with excitement when he found Justin already well-lubed. "Oh Jesus, you're gonna fucking kill me," he whispered breathlessly. It drove him crazy, absolutely crazy, to climb into bed and find Justin wet and slick and waiting for him.
"Kill me fucking first," Justin said.
Dan fumbled with the condom, smacking Justin on the ass when he started snickering after the first one broke, and Dan had to reach for another. He slid home, and they sighed in unison. Justin finally began to pace them, setting those talented hips in motion and encouraging Dan to get moving.
Justin's guttural moans were mixed with breathy chuckles, so Dan knew he was keeping time to his thrusts with a mantra of "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
He never realized he was doing it, and Justin always teased him, saying, "D, you're really good at it, you don't have to keep reminding me what you're doing."
Dan chuckled too, hearing himself now. "All righty, J, big finish," he said and they were both laughing hard when he came.
"Mmm, awesome way to end the day," Justin muttered.
Dan couldn't have agreed more.
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In the winter, Dan played basketball at 8:00 on Saturday mornings. It was a crap shoot when he returned around 11:30 whether or not Justin would be up and at 'em. If he was still sleeping, Dan would usually shower and get back in bed with him.
That morning he'd had to park a block away from the Y, and it was sleeting when he jogged back to the car. Cold and wet, he was a little disappointed to hear Justin rummaging around in the kitchen when he walked in the door. He ambled into the kitchen to find Justin rummaging through the wine rack.
"Little early to be hittin' the sauce isn't it?" Dan said, laughing when Justin jumped. "Do we need to sit down and have a little talk, my precious?"
Justin flipped him off over his head. "I was looking for a chianti," he said, finally finding it and pulling it from the rack. "Brian invited us to dinner at Deb's house and chianti will go with whatever she makes."
Dan didn't say anything at first, too surprised to form a reply. "But he was shitty to you yesterday," he finally said. "Why would you want to spend an evening with him?"
"It's not just Brian, it's everyone. Besides, he wasn't an asshole the whole time."
"So it's a percentage thing? If he's not a shit to you at least 50% of the time, it's okay? That's nuts."
"If you don't want to come, don't come," Justin said, abruptly turning away and rinsing his breakfast dishes in the sink.
Dan sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't care if we go or not, I just don't get why the hell you'd want to."
Justin didn't say anything for a beat, and when he turned his head slightly, he kept his eyes on the kitchen floor. "It's Sunday at seven," he said quietly.
Dan circled his arms around Justin and kissed his cheek, then rested his chin on Justin's shoulder. "That'll work. I'm covering for Al Hollings, so I'm on call 'til six."
Justin nodded and folded a dish towel with far more care than it deserved. "No matter how shitty I was to my mom, the next time we talked it was like nothing had ever happened. Not like, I got away with everything. I'd get grounded or whatever, but it was like she was totally over it, you know? No matter how shitty I was."
"Is this your way of telling me you want to adopt Brian, 'cause I've got to stop you right there..."
Justin laughed and gently elbowed Dan in the gut. "No." He leaned back against Dan's chest, baring some of his neck in invitation. Dan obligingly nuzzled the soft, pale skin. "I never thought about it before. Never appreciated it."
Dan stilled for a moment, pulling back slightly, massaging Justin's shoulders as he spoke. "J, a parent offering unconditional love to a child is one thing. But from everything you've told me about Brian, I'm not sure he deserves the same..."
"No, God, I know. I don't even know what I'm trying to say." After thinking about it for a minute, he tried to explain. "It's weird when no one has any history with you. At first, I kind of liked it, before my mom died anyway. I mean, I'm whoever I am, not whoever I maybe was one time a long time ago. But when I was talking to Brian, it was... I don't know, it was nice to be known, I guess." Justin met Dan's eyes, shyly gauging whether or not he was making sense.
"When I was trying to decide where to do my residency, the fact that my family was here in Pittsburgh was on the pro and con list," Dan said.
Justin smiled. "Yeah, that's it. And then I was driving home, and I just remembered how Deb's kitchen is, like, one of the best places I know. My mom and dad sold the house where I grew up when they got divorced, and Mom's condo was never home, and for awhile, I was moving back and forth between all these different places. But sitting around Deb's table always felt so... familiar. I guess I miss it."
There was something really sweet about how excited that dinner made Justin. Sunday morning he was giddy and silly, more animated than Dan had seen him in such a long time. In a joking parody of a discussion they'd had shortly before the first Forrester Family Dinner, Justin straddled Dan's lap at the breakfast table and said, "I think I need to prepare you for a few things."
Dan smirked at him. "Are you making fun of me?"
Justin laughed and shook his head. "First of all, I'm just going to offer a blanket apology right now for whatever Debbie says."
"You've met my Aunt Gladys. How much worse could..."
"Aunt Gladys is Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca next to Deb."
"Whoa," Dan said, and could hardly imagine what that implied about Debbie.
"Yeah, and, um, I find that phrases like uh huh and I see are sort of the best way to just accept whatever someone says without, you know, prolonging the conversation or anything."
"I think I can manage," Dan said dryly.
Justin looked horrified. "No, no, no! Over-confidence will kill you here. It's best to just hope really hard that you walk away standing upright and barely limping."
Dan laughed. "It's a good thing I've got you to protect me," he said.
Justin nodded sagely. "I'll do what I can," he promised. "At some point, though..."
"It's every man for himself?"
"I love you, I really do, but..." he shrugged helplessly, his eyes dancing with mischief like Dan hadn't seen in months.
He eyed Justin shrewdly and matched his slow nod. "Understood."
Justin's happiness was infectious, and Dan had spent the rest of the day with a buzz of anticipation in the background as well. So he felt particularly shitty when he called Justin at a little after six that evening.
"Hey, you on the way?"
Dan winced at Justin's eager voice. God damn it. He should have known better than to commit to anything when he was on call. Murphy's Law seemed to have a particular grudge against him.
"J, the lieutenant governor's in town, and he just had a mild heart attack. I'm gonna have to scrub up and oversee a procedure."
"Dan..." Justin said, then stopped short. Dan bit his lips and winced, picturing the way Justin snapped his mouth shut and turned off. He could shut down at the turn of a dime. "Yeah. Um, I hope the guy's okay. I'll see you when you get home..."
"I'm really sorry. A little advance notice, and next time I'll make sure I'm free..."
"Don't be sorry, God, Dan. It's a fucking dinner. You're saving someone's life. I know what's more important."
Dan felt his skin burn with irritation at Justin's scornful tone. "You're important, God damn it! I told you I was on call. You know this always happens..."
"Don't be pissed at me 'cause I'm not making some fucked up scene!" Justin said angrily. "Every time you cancel, you end up pissed at me 'cause I don't flip out. I get it. You can't come. It's not like you wanted to anyway. I think I'll live."
Dan held his tongue for a beat. Justin had a point. He and Kevin had fought almost every time he had to cancel at the last minute, and he was so sure it would be the same with Justin that if there wasn't a fight, he found a way to make one. "Yeah," Dan said, his tone conciliatory now. "You'll be fine. It's me we'd worry about if I was going in alone, right?" The joke fell flat. Justin said nothing, so Dan cleared his throat and said, "Okay, well, I'll call when I'm done and see if there's enough time to swing by, okay?"
When Justin replied, his own voice sounded mollified as well. "I'll see you."
The procedure ended up being far less complicated than Dan anticipated, and a little after 7:30 he was showered, shaved, and heading for the west side. Stopped at a light, he punched up Justin's cell phone number and hit Dial.
"Hey," Justin said, sounding surprised. There was laughter in the background and the sound of silverware clinking against plates.
"Hey-any spaghetti left?" Dan grinned as he pictured the smile obvious in Justin's tone.
"Only a few gallons," Justin said with a laugh. "How'd it go?"
"Another life snatched from the jaws of death by yours truly," Dan said, followed by a dramatic sigh. "In other words, same old, same old. How do I do it, J? Inquiring minds want to know."
Justin chuckled. "You're probably tired. You don't have to show. I'll bring home some leftovers..."
"Aw, come on! The hospital stylist cut my hair this morning and everything."
"Yeah?" Justin said.
"Yeah. I look really pretty."
"Well, in that case I guess you have to come."
"Good, because I'm standing on the front porch. Open the door for me, would you?"
The door magically opened, but it wasn't Justin on the other side, it was Brian, whose face brightened at the sight before him. "Well look who's here!" he said jovially, stepping back and opening the door wide. "How nice is this? Now Uncle Vic will have someone from his own generation to talk to!"
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The One Where Justin's With Another Guy, and Brian Interferes, Part 3
Before Jennifer Taylor died, Sunday was their day of sloth. If he wasn't on call, Dan got up early and ran then woke Justin with a decadent breakfast-omelets or ginger pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, sometimes French toast. Justin staggered downstairs without fail just as the coffee finished brewing. They traded sections of the Sunday New York Times and bumbled their way through the crossword puzzle.
Dan watched football or baseball or basketball, hockey or soccer or lacrosse, while Justin studied and sketched and made fun of Dan's butch obsession with sports, prompting Dan to demonstrate various moves and holds he'd used when he'd wrestled in high school.
There was plenty of time for fucking around and napping and more fucking around.
If they hadn't managed to finagle a dinner invitation out of anyone, Dan often put together an impressive spread, then declared Justin responsible for all of the remaining meals that week. Sometimes there was a small, quiet dinner at Jennifer's condo, and sometimes they made an appearance at the Forrester Family Dinner.
Dan now found it laughable that he'd been so hesitant to expose Justin to his family. It made sense enough early on. Charlie's reaction to Justin's age was a good indication of how the rest of the family would fall in, and Dan didn't particularly relish suffering the incessant jibes of his siblings and their spouses.
But there was more to it than that. While Dan would never characterize Justin as shy, he was quiet, and having spent an evening or two around the dinner table with Jennifer, Dan was sure his family would scare the shit out of Justin. An unheard request to pass the butter could segue into a blistering screaming match about the one time when Kate was 12 and Dan was six, and he scalped all of her Barbies and hung them by individual nooses from her bedroom window.
And although Dan and Charlie didn't have any kids, between Dan's two sisters and his other brother, there were nine kids, and most of them seemed to bring a friend or two with them to dinner. The house was always full, the walls reverberating with shouts of laughter and outrage, children crying, siblings fighting, parents refereeing.
But Justin actually enjoyed the chaos of those dinners. While he was still hesitant to join in the insanity, he appreciated it all-from the fawning interest of Dan's sisters and sisters-in-law to the crying baby to Charlie's oft-repeated observation that Justin was a mere three years older than their nephew Chas.
Justin happily fit himself into the bedlam with little difficulty which was fortunate, because the boisterous Forrester Family Dinner became a great antidote to the melancholy of Justin's Sundays after Jennifer's death.
Sunday was now a day of fulfilling obligations. Justin called his sister at 10:00 every Saturday morning, and they watched an episode of Spongebob SquarePants together. Justin tried to draw her out about her new school and life with his father, but she rarely had much to say about that. Craig Taylor had yet to get on the phone, not even to discuss issues of the estate. Those inquiries were always handled through an attorney.
Later in the day, Justin would sift through sympathy cards and gifts to his mother's memorial fund, then write thank-you notes to the donors. Jennifer had lost a brother to leukemia when she was young, and Justin chose to dedicate her memorial fund to several cancer charities. Justin made detailed notes of who donated what, then he mailed the list, along with the cards and condolences to his sister. He hoped as Molly grew older she would appreciate having that connection to her mother.
The cards and donations were now coming in more sporadically, but Sunday still seemed to be a day colored with an extra tinge of sadness.
One cold, rainy Sunday shortly after Brian Kinney made an appearance in their living room, Dan strolled into the media room eating an apple. "That was Ken. He and Jeff are barbecuing tonight if we're interested. Mom's ordering in from Pizza World. What sounds good?"
Justin said nothing as he sat there fingering a sympathy card.
"J, 'd'you hear me? Ken and Jeff's or Mom and Dad's?" Justin still didn't answer. Dan nudged him slightly with his hip. "What's up?"
Justin shook his head to clear the cobwebs and looked up at Dan with an apologetic smile. "Brian donated twenty-five hundred dollars to my mom's memorial fund," he said. "He must have gone back and found the obituary."
Dan read Brian's handwritten note over Justin's shoulder. The fierce way you care is a testament to your mother.
That sentiment was over the top as far as Dan was concerned. He'd always found Jennifer to be very reserved. That she loved Justin and wanted him to be happy was obvious, but there was a remoteness about her. She was gracious, always impeccably polite, but it was without an excessive amount of warmth.
Of course, much of that was Justin's doing. He was prickly with Jennifer, irritated at her attempts to mother him; irritated at himself for still valuing her opinion, especially when it didn't coincide with his own.
He wasn't quite through that phase of separating from his parents and their influence. Dan hadn't been particularly close with his own parents when he was Justin's age. It was only after he'd been out on his own for a few years that he'd grown to appreciate his parents, one adult to another.
It was a luxury Justin would never have and an additional source of guilt he certainly didn't need.
The day of her accident, Jennifer had invited Justin to lunch. She had to pick up a painting she'd had framed at a shop near the CM campus. Justin hadn't felt like going, so he declined, telling his mom he would pick up her picture and bring it over to her place the next day. He'd jokingly said that if Jennifer were to make brunch, he guessed he'd stay to eat it. She'd told him to bring Dan and then rang off.
Three hours later, Jennifer made a left turn at the intersection of her neighborhood grocery store and was struck broadside by a pick-up truck.
And now, two months later, Justin was still dealing almost daily with the ramifications of that careless split-second.
Dan gently rubbed his lover's back, unsure why Brian's donation was so perplexing to Justin. "Well, that was nice of him, right?" Dan said.
"Yeah," Justin agreed. "I just...don't know what to say to him."
Dan took a seat on the couch. "What do you mean? You're not going to give it back, are you?"
"Oh, no, huh uh," Justin said vaguely. "It's just...the thank you note. It sounds dumb. Generic." He handed the note to Dan.
Brian,
Thank you for the generous donation to my mother's memorial fund. The money will be used to fund cancer research as well as provide housing and other support for families dealing with the disease.
Best regards,
Justin
"That's fine," Dan said. It was generic, but what else was there to say?
Justin shrugged and sat down next to Dan, pulling Dan's arm around him which made Dan chuckle and tighten his hold for a second.
"It'll piss him off," Justin said, resting his head on Dan's shoulder.
Irritated at Brian's imagined upset, Dan snorted derisively. "What are you supposed to say? Dear Brian, you and your 12-inch cock are to be commended for your stunning display of selfless generosity..."
Justin turned to nuzzle Dan's neck. His chuff of laughter tickled the skin there. "You're getting warmer," he said dryly.
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It was a given that Brian would find himself back in the offices of McGinty & Schiff at some point, but it might not have been quite so soon if he hadn't been pissed about that fucking thank-you note.
What the fuck was that God damned, lame ass shit about? The fucker knew how to use a God damned fucking phone, didn't he? Maybe Justin's 500 year old sugar daddy limited the amount of time the youngster was allowed on the new fangled talking contraption.
Whatever the reason, it was fucking bullshit, and he wasn't going to God damned fucking stand for it either.
So after a perfunctory visit with Bill McGinty, Brian casually asked if Justin was working. Bill checked his watch. "Well, he's off the clock, but I bet he's still down in the art department. He doesn't have classes on Friday afternoons, so he usually takes pity on our overworked asses and stays late."
Brian tsk'd tsk'd. "Stealing work from the lowly intern, Bill? I'm shocked."
Bill laughed. "I toss a Starbucks gift card at the kid every couple of weeks. He always says I've given him a hell of a lot more than lattes, whatever that means."
Brian couldn't puzzle it out either, but he didn't really care. He wandered down to the art department and found Justin in one of the cubby holes reserved for lowly interns.
He stood just behind Justin and watched him put the finishing touches on a logo for soap. Or cheese. It was impossible to tell really. "Do you eat that or clean with it?" Brian asked, and to his credit, Justin didn't even flinch.
"I know," he said, sounding sadly resigned. He didn't turn around or acknowledge Brian, just kept working on the logo. "But the account exec has her heart set on this. What can you do?"
"Make a mental note to call on her client in a couple of months," Brian answered. He stood there silently, waiting for Justin to finish, but he was standing so close, Justin couldn't even roll his chair back from his desk. Eventually, Justin put down his stylus. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Brian then turned back to stare into his computer screen.
"Thanks again for the donation to my mom's memorial."
"Yes, I received your pleasant acknowledgement," Brian said evenly. "Best regards to you as well, by the way."
Brian could see Justin clench his jaw muscles, then take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Is there something you needed? I think Aaron is working on your stuff. He's in Philadelphia this week, but should be back on Monday."
"That's fine. This was more of a social call anyway."
Justin shrugged and returned to his logo. Brian pursed his lips in thought as he registered an unaccustomed flash of uncertainty. He'd thought he wanted to chastise Justin for sending him such a ridiculous note, but standing there in the face of Justin's bland demeanor, he wasn't sure what he'd hoped to accomplish.
Brian moved in a little closer so that every time Justin moved his hand on the screen he bumped Brian's hip or thigh. Several times, he tried to change the angle at which he sat, but Brian's foot next to the chair's wheels made it impossible to move. The tips of Justin's ears grew red, and Brian smiled, forgetting how fun it was to antagonize Justin from slow burn to eruption.
"Damn it!" Justin finally huffed, tossing the stylus across his desk. "Move or I'm not responsible for your fucking Italian loafers, all right?"
Hiding a grin behind his hand, Brian stepped back. "We're going to go have a cup of coffee."
"I can't just leave. I have to work."
"Bullshit," Brian said, tugging the chair back and tipping it forward so Justin had to either stand up or find himself sprawled on the floor. "Bill already told me you're working pro bono. Fucked up move, by the way. You do something for nothing you get a reputation as a guy who'll do something for nothing."
"I like to think of it as paying it forward," was Justin's snide reply, but he logged off the computer and reached for his portfolio case.
"Chop chop, Sonny Boy. Let's go."
As soon as they sat down with their drinks, Brian asked about the funeral, but Justin just shrugged and shook his head.
It took twenty minutes of silently sitting there nursing a cup of decaf before he finally opened up a little. Brian knew Justin would start talking eventually--silence always got to him after awhile, and he'd blabber on just to hear some noise.
"It's weird, but I hardly remember any of it," he said. "It's all dumb shit, like, Mrs. Kendall's hair was dyed so black it looked blue, and my aunt had a run in her hose. Molly was wearing this white dress with a pink belt that Mom got her for a school dance. That was sad, you know? She should have worn it to a dance, but she wore it to her mom's funeral instead."
"She doin' okay?" Brian asked.
Justin shrugged listlessly. "I guess. I think so. What's okay?" He slid his coffee cup back and forth across the table. "My dad's in Chicago now, so Molly's there. We talk on the phone every Sunday. I hope she's okay."
"Was he a total shithead?"
Justin's snort wasn't exactly amusement, but he made a wry face and said, "One thing I do remember about the funeral was the look on my dad's face when he realized Dan's father was Charles Forrester. Swear to God, he was, like, a thousand times nicer to me after that."
"Mmm," Brian nodded, recognizing the name of one of the big boys at Pittsburgh Steel.
"Dan's whole family came to the funeral," Justin said, and started to say more, but Brian interrupted.
"And your whole family would have been there too if we'd known."
Brian expected Justin to react with embarrassment and guilt, but he just nodded slowly, not so much agreeing as acknowledging the fact that Brian had said something.
"Deb's hurt you never saw fit to tell her," Brian continued when it became apparent that Justin had nothing more to add.
"I hadn't talked to anyone in months," Justin said. "It would've been ridiculous to pick up the phone and say, 'Hey, remember me? My mom just died!'"
"I never said she didn't understand. I said she was hurt."
"Well...I'm sorry then. I didn't mean to hurt her."
"Let's back up then," Brian said, leaning back in his seat. "Why just drop the fuck off the planet?"
"Just because I was off your radar doesn't mean I dropped off the planet," Justin said dismissively. "I was working, going to school..."
"Fucking geriatric cases. Yes, I can see you're living a very full life. But you've got room for a few old friends, don't you? I mean, fuck me, right?" Brian leaned down to catch Justin's eye and they shared a smile. "But Deb and Vic, the lovely lezzies, they want to see you."
Justin shoved Brian away and shrugged, but he kept smiling.
"Come to dinner on Sunday," Brian said. "Bring a loaf of French bread. Better yet, bring the old guy. The gang will get a kick out of that."
"I can't," Justin said shortly, then added, "Thanks."
"You can't as in you're not allowed or you can't as in you have other plans?"
Justin gave Brian a sour look and for an instant it seemed like he wasn't going to answer. "We usually eat at Dan's mom and dad's."
"Just the four of you? Oh that sounds delightful."
"More like 24," Justin said, then shrugged at Brian's inquisitive brow. "It's a big family."
"And I just bet they've embraced you with open arms, Sunshine, haven't they?"
"Why are you being so shitty?" Justin asked. "Yeah, they're nice. What, you think they should be crappy to me or something?"
He started to get up, but Brian reached for Justin's wrist and gently encircled it with his large hand, tugging lightly to keep Justin there. "No, they should be really good to you," he said softly. With a thumb, he lightly caressed the underside of Justin's wrist.
Justin grimaced in disgust at the involuntary flush that heated his face, and Brian felt an unsightly thrill of victory in his gut. He could still move Justin with his voice and his touch. That was never gonna fucking change no matter what Justin thought he wanted.
"You didn't have to disappear," Brian said. "Fuck me..."
"Brian, quit begging," Justin said and then gave a genuine laugh, and Brian felt like a parched man handed a tall drink of water.
Brian smirked and rolled his eyes. "I would have come around. You didn't have to drop everything."
Justin shrugged as his face grew more serious. "You could've just said you felt suffocated and wanted out. You didn't have to arrange to have me carted out of town like some fucking embarrassment you couldn't stand to have around."
"Yeah, well, I fucked up. So what the fuck is new? But at least I set you on a path to something extraordinary. The New York Art Institute is the fucking holy grail of art schools."
That obviously wasn't the right thing to say. Justin snorted scornfully. "Gosh, you know what? You're right! I guess I should have thanked you that in my pleasant little note."
"I was trying to make it okay for you. I was trying to give you a...a fucking direction."
Still not the right thing. "Fuck you! I didn't need any steering from you, I was doing fucking fine on my own. You just felt guilty that you didn't want to fuck with me anymore, and you didn't want me around as some fucking reminder of that."
"There you go, Sunshine. You have me all figured out, don't you?" Brian never did well when he felt backed into a corner. "Maybe if you'd listened to me, we wouldn't be sitting here now talking about all this shit, you ever think of that?"
Justin stilled until it seemed like he wasn't even breathing. He turned bright red and sat there for some time, just blinking rapidly. When he spoke it was in a dangerous voice that grew louder with his mounting fury. "Are you saying it's my fault my mom died? Because I didn't follow the fucking life plan you concocted for me? Fuck you, you asshole! Fuck you!"
Brian shut his eyes tightly and collapsed back in his seat. Jesus Christ, talk about fucking up. He sucked at this. Really, really sucked at it. "I didn't mean that," he said calmly, reaching out yet again to grab Justin's arm and keep him from escaping. "You know I didn't mean it like that. I just meant maybe you wouldn't be..."
"What?" Justin snapped.
Brian shrugged, a thousand words tumbling through his brain, but he could only lamely say, "Fucking geriatric cases for one."
Justin lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes-an indication of approaching danger. "Dan could be a hundred years old, and he'd still be amazing to me so shut the fuck up."
Now it was Brian's turn to nod, though not necessarily in agreement. "Just...damn it, Justin, come to dinner," he said, staring intently at him. "Tell me you'll come. I want to hear you say you'll be there"
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Dan was sitting down at his desk for the first time all day when his cell phone rang. Sighing at the files scattered all over, he checked the number display and grinned. "Hey J."
"Say something reasonable to me," Justin ordered.
Dan dutifully replied, "A diversified investment portfolio's rate of return should beat the rate of inflation by at least four percentage points."
Justin's chuckle widened Dan's grin. "Thanks," he said.
"You're an odd duck," Dan said.
Justin laughed and said, "What'd you say? I'm a hot fuck?"
Dan laughed too. "What's up?
"Nothing," Justin said, and Dan could picture the way he diffidently played with the phone cord while he geared up to contradict himself. "Brian was in the office today."
"Ahh," Dan said knowingly.
"Don't say ah like you already know what happened!" Justin barked.
"Don't give me a script to follow!" Dan shot back with equal sharpness. Tense silence reigned for a few beats, then Dan lowered his voice and said, "What happened?"
"Nothing," Justin said sourly. "He just...God, he, like, basically said that if I had just marched along and followed his fucking orders my mom wouldn't have died!"
It took Dan a few beats to respond. "Wow," he finally said. "That's how he's gonna get you to dump me and crawl back to him?"
Justin's surprised laughter made Dan laugh too. "Right after he was all, 'You know that's not what I meant,' but it's not like there's a thousand ways to interpret what the fuck he was saying, and I know I should have fucking gone to lunch! I'll take that part of it. One fucking hour out of my whole fucking life, I should have just gone, all right? But just because I didn't..."
"Justin," Dan gently interrupted. "Your mom died because some impatient asshole ran a red light. It was a really awful accident."
Justin took a shaky breath and said, "I know." He sighed heavily. "It's so fucking typical! We were talking, and...it was, nice, you know? And I'm thinking, he can be so...he makes me think we could be friends, and then he says this shit and it's like getting slammed with a...!"
Dan's beeper sounded shrilly, and he grabbed it with a muttered, "Damn it!"
"Shit, you've gotta go," Justin said quickly. "We'll talk later..."
"J, I don't want..."
Justin laughed but there wasn't much humor in it. "No, God. I'm being a fucking twat."
"That's him talking!" Dan said, immediately incensed. "That is bullshit, and you know it!" His beeper sounded again.
"You've gotta go," Justin repeated.
Dan sighed. "I'll be home around seven, okay? Eight o'clock tops."
"Later," Justin said, and they both disconnected.
It was past eleven when Dan wearily walked into the bedroom, tossing his jacket and tie on an easy chair then stripping off his pants and briefs. Naked, he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a piss, then he crawled into bed.
"You eat?" Justin asked sleepily.
"Yeah. What'd you have?"
Justin snickered. "Hot dog and mac 'n' cheese," he said.
Dan was always opening up the refrigerator after a late night and groaning about Justin's adolescent dinner leftovers. Now he laughed into the back of Justin's neck. "Mmm, sorry I missed it," he said.
"Me too," Justin said.
They laid there entwined for a little while, Dan placing a gentle kiss or two on Justin's neck and shoulder from time to time. Curious, Dan slipped his hand between them and slid down Justin's flank and then around, pushing a finger into Justin's asshole. He inhaled sharply, his body jerking with excitement when he found Justin already well-lubed. "Oh Jesus, you're gonna fucking kill me," he whispered breathlessly. It drove him crazy, absolutely crazy, to climb into bed and find Justin wet and slick and waiting for him.
"Kill me fucking first," Justin said.
Dan fumbled with the condom, smacking Justin on the ass when he started snickering after the first one broke, and Dan had to reach for another. He slid home, and they sighed in unison. Justin finally began to pace them, setting those talented hips in motion and encouraging Dan to get moving.
Justin's guttural moans were mixed with breathy chuckles, so Dan knew he was keeping time to his thrusts with a mantra of "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
He never realized he was doing it, and Justin always teased him, saying, "D, you're really good at it, you don't have to keep reminding me what you're doing."
Dan chuckled too, hearing himself now. "All righty, J, big finish," he said and they were both laughing hard when he came.
"Mmm, awesome way to end the day," Justin muttered.
Dan couldn't have agreed more.
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In the winter, Dan played basketball at 8:00 on Saturday mornings. It was a crap shoot when he returned around 11:30 whether or not Justin would be up and at 'em. If he was still sleeping, Dan would usually shower and get back in bed with him.
That morning he'd had to park a block away from the Y, and it was sleeting when he jogged back to the car. Cold and wet, he was a little disappointed to hear Justin rummaging around in the kitchen when he walked in the door. He ambled into the kitchen to find Justin rummaging through the wine rack.
"Little early to be hittin' the sauce isn't it?" Dan said, laughing when Justin jumped. "Do we need to sit down and have a little talk, my precious?"
Justin flipped him off over his head. "I was looking for a chianti," he said, finally finding it and pulling it from the rack. "Brian invited us to dinner at Deb's house and chianti will go with whatever she makes."
Dan didn't say anything at first, too surprised to form a reply. "But he was shitty to you yesterday," he finally said. "Why would you want to spend an evening with him?"
"It's not just Brian, it's everyone. Besides, he wasn't an asshole the whole time."
"So it's a percentage thing? If he's not a shit to you at least 50% of the time, it's okay? That's nuts."
"If you don't want to come, don't come," Justin said, abruptly turning away and rinsing his breakfast dishes in the sink.
Dan sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't care if we go or not, I just don't get why the hell you'd want to."
Justin didn't say anything for a beat, and when he turned his head slightly, he kept his eyes on the kitchen floor. "It's Sunday at seven," he said quietly.
Dan circled his arms around Justin and kissed his cheek, then rested his chin on Justin's shoulder. "That'll work. I'm covering for Al Hollings, so I'm on call 'til six."
Justin nodded and folded a dish towel with far more care than it deserved. "No matter how shitty I was to my mom, the next time we talked it was like nothing had ever happened. Not like, I got away with everything. I'd get grounded or whatever, but it was like she was totally over it, you know? No matter how shitty I was."
"Is this your way of telling me you want to adopt Brian, 'cause I've got to stop you right there..."
Justin laughed and gently elbowed Dan in the gut. "No." He leaned back against Dan's chest, baring some of his neck in invitation. Dan obligingly nuzzled the soft, pale skin. "I never thought about it before. Never appreciated it."
Dan stilled for a moment, pulling back slightly, massaging Justin's shoulders as he spoke. "J, a parent offering unconditional love to a child is one thing. But from everything you've told me about Brian, I'm not sure he deserves the same..."
"No, God, I know. I don't even know what I'm trying to say." After thinking about it for a minute, he tried to explain. "It's weird when no one has any history with you. At first, I kind of liked it, before my mom died anyway. I mean, I'm whoever I am, not whoever I maybe was one time a long time ago. But when I was talking to Brian, it was... I don't know, it was nice to be known, I guess." Justin met Dan's eyes, shyly gauging whether or not he was making sense.
"When I was trying to decide where to do my residency, the fact that my family was here in Pittsburgh was on the pro and con list," Dan said.
Justin smiled. "Yeah, that's it. And then I was driving home, and I just remembered how Deb's kitchen is, like, one of the best places I know. My mom and dad sold the house where I grew up when they got divorced, and Mom's condo was never home, and for awhile, I was moving back and forth between all these different places. But sitting around Deb's table always felt so... familiar. I guess I miss it."
There was something really sweet about how excited that dinner made Justin. Sunday morning he was giddy and silly, more animated than Dan had seen him in such a long time. In a joking parody of a discussion they'd had shortly before the first Forrester Family Dinner, Justin straddled Dan's lap at the breakfast table and said, "I think I need to prepare you for a few things."
Dan smirked at him. "Are you making fun of me?"
Justin laughed and shook his head. "First of all, I'm just going to offer a blanket apology right now for whatever Debbie says."
"You've met my Aunt Gladys. How much worse could..."
"Aunt Gladys is Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca next to Deb."
"Whoa," Dan said, and could hardly imagine what that implied about Debbie.
"Yeah, and, um, I find that phrases like uh huh and I see are sort of the best way to just accept whatever someone says without, you know, prolonging the conversation or anything."
"I think I can manage," Dan said dryly.
Justin looked horrified. "No, no, no! Over-confidence will kill you here. It's best to just hope really hard that you walk away standing upright and barely limping."
Dan laughed. "It's a good thing I've got you to protect me," he said.
Justin nodded sagely. "I'll do what I can," he promised. "At some point, though..."
"It's every man for himself?"
"I love you, I really do, but..." he shrugged helplessly, his eyes dancing with mischief like Dan hadn't seen in months.
He eyed Justin shrewdly and matched his slow nod. "Understood."
Justin's happiness was infectious, and Dan had spent the rest of the day with a buzz of anticipation in the background as well. So he felt particularly shitty when he called Justin at a little after six that evening.
"Hey, you on the way?"
Dan winced at Justin's eager voice. God damn it. He should have known better than to commit to anything when he was on call. Murphy's Law seemed to have a particular grudge against him.
"J, the lieutenant governor's in town, and he just had a mild heart attack. I'm gonna have to scrub up and oversee a procedure."
"Dan..." Justin said, then stopped short. Dan bit his lips and winced, picturing the way Justin snapped his mouth shut and turned off. He could shut down at the turn of a dime. "Yeah. Um, I hope the guy's okay. I'll see you when you get home..."
"I'm really sorry. A little advance notice, and next time I'll make sure I'm free..."
"Don't be sorry, God, Dan. It's a fucking dinner. You're saving someone's life. I know what's more important."
Dan felt his skin burn with irritation at Justin's scornful tone. "You're important, God damn it! I told you I was on call. You know this always happens..."
"Don't be pissed at me 'cause I'm not making some fucked up scene!" Justin said angrily. "Every time you cancel, you end up pissed at me 'cause I don't flip out. I get it. You can't come. It's not like you wanted to anyway. I think I'll live."
Dan held his tongue for a beat. Justin had a point. He and Kevin had fought almost every time he had to cancel at the last minute, and he was so sure it would be the same with Justin that if there wasn't a fight, he found a way to make one. "Yeah," Dan said, his tone conciliatory now. "You'll be fine. It's me we'd worry about if I was going in alone, right?" The joke fell flat. Justin said nothing, so Dan cleared his throat and said, "Okay, well, I'll call when I'm done and see if there's enough time to swing by, okay?"
When Justin replied, his own voice sounded mollified as well. "I'll see you."
The procedure ended up being far less complicated than Dan anticipated, and a little after 7:30 he was showered, shaved, and heading for the west side. Stopped at a light, he punched up Justin's cell phone number and hit Dial.
"Hey," Justin said, sounding surprised. There was laughter in the background and the sound of silverware clinking against plates.
"Hey-any spaghetti left?" Dan grinned as he pictured the smile obvious in Justin's tone.
"Only a few gallons," Justin said with a laugh. "How'd it go?"
"Another life snatched from the jaws of death by yours truly," Dan said, followed by a dramatic sigh. "In other words, same old, same old. How do I do it, J? Inquiring minds want to know."
Justin chuckled. "You're probably tired. You don't have to show. I'll bring home some leftovers..."
"Aw, come on! The hospital stylist cut my hair this morning and everything."
"Yeah?" Justin said.
"Yeah. I look really pretty."
"Well, in that case I guess you have to come."
"Good, because I'm standing on the front porch. Open the door for me, would you?"
The door magically opened, but it wasn't Justin on the other side, it was Brian, whose face brightened at the sight before him. "Well look who's here!" he said jovially, stepping back and opening the door wide. "How nice is this? Now Uncle Vic will have someone from his own generation to talk to!"
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