ENOUGH
Title: Enough
Written By: sxy_readr3
Timeline: Episode 507
Rating: PG-13-R (language)
What if: Justin had interrupted Brian yelling at Michael in 507
Author's Notes: This is my first fic and I am so incredibly nervous, please be gentle *lol* I was also unable to get this beta’d since I was out of town but I have read through this about a million times…hopefully it doesn’t suck too bad
Brian’s POV
Stumbling up the walk, I wonder what the hell I’m doing here at this hour. But, I have some stuff on my chest that I need to get out there. I lost the one thing in my life that means more to me than anything and the bottle of beam has helped me to see things oh so clearly. I’m pounding on the door for what seems like an eternity, the cigarette in my mouth. I hardly recognize the man in the glass reflection. Who is this man having these thoughts? Who is this man who lets a piece of blond boy ass throw him into a tizzy simply because I'm not enough for him? Who is this man willing to risk his friendship? Then, Ben is opening the door pulling me in and I’m yelling-I don’t even know what I’m saying, it’s as if I am watching the scene unfold on a television set.
And then Michael emerges from the staircase stopping what I’m sure was a dazzling display of testosterone. And then it all comes out in unrestrained rage. I have never talked to Mikey this way, but it feels so good to put the blame onto somebody else instead of having all of it placed rightfully on my shoulders.
“Well Mikey, Congratulations…” He of course does not understand and I let him know exactly what I think of his act of innocence. But he's fighting back, and this has never happened before, he is usually one to stand idly by and allow me to call him all sorts of names. Good for you Mikey, you finally grew a pair.
Justin’s POV
As soon as I heard the knock, I knew it was Brian. Nobody else can express their wrath in quite the same way that he can--even in things as simple as banging on a door. I got out of bed and went out into the hallway ready to respond should things get messy. Then came the commotion and I feared Ben might have gone off on Brian. Luckily for everybody, Michael intervened.
Now, Standing here, at the top of the staircase, I hear the words; Brian blaming Mikey for our breakup, for infecting me, planting ideas into my ‘blond little head’. It is surprising to hear all of those things, because during the Ethan fiasco, Brian was stoic throughout. Actually, if Brian had any reaction whatsoever, it would have undermined what he wanted everybody to believe; that what he and I had back then was nothing more than a good fuck; there were no locks on our doors, we were free to go anytime. After hearing Michael tell Brian that I was never perfectly happy, I decide I’ve heard enough.
“It's okay Michael...I think it’s time for you to go, Brian.”
“Well, if it isn’t Justin Taylor. The man who can’t make up his own god damned mind when it comes to what he wants. Tell me, how the fuck can a man please you? Ian couldn’t live up to your expectations, even with all of the fancy bullshit words, and I sure as fuck can’t!”
“Brian, I real…”
“No, Justin! Perhaps we should take a little trip down memory lane”
In the midst of his tirade, he’s moving Mikey’s living room furniture around. He then goes into the dining room and comes back with a chair, which he puts in front of the coffee table. Walking over to me, he grabs the front of my shirt and pushes me down to sit, then he walks around the table and sits on the sofa.
“You walked into my office that night, all those years ago. You told me you gave it some thought and that I should take you back; that you fucking knew what to expect from me. Why are we still having this same conversation? Why did you leave again for the very thing that you said that you had accepted? What can I do if, what you expect from me, isn’t enough? What do you want from me?”
“Come on Brian, put your jacket on, let’s go outside. Michael and Ben have heard enough.”
“Just answer the fucking question! We are not Mikey and Ben! And we’re sure as hell not Melanie and Lindsay! I would have thought that you would have figured that out, that I am not about flowers and candy and bullshit words, I'm about action! Those tricks mean nothing to me. Can’t you see when you and I are fucking…or, whatever the fuck you want to call it, I’m with you completely. There is no one else. The tricks simply provide a way to get my needs met!”
“But WHY am I not enough for you, Brian? Why can’t you just tell me what you want from me?” I ask, getting worked up myself.
“It’s not that simple. It’s…I don’t know how to be what you want me to be”
God, he sounds so desperate, like a child wanting acceptance.
“But, do you even understand what it is that I want? What you think I want from you is for you to be completely monogamous. I’ve never asked you for that…I could never ask that of you. All I am asking is that you let me know that I mean something to you, that I am more than just another fuck for you to add to the list of men you’ve had. I need to know these things. I’m not asking you to declare your undying love for me. I’m asking for a simple ‘I care about you’. I’m asking for the occasional night out that doesn't include the baths or Babylon. I’m asking you to not deny that what we have is real. I am asking for an equal part in this relationship. And I’m asking that you not bring men into our home, into our bed”
He looks at me sternly before asking, “I have a pretty good track record of fucking shit up, I don't think I can do this without some assistance.”
“Of course, I just want you to give it your best, for you to show me that you're trying” placing my hand behind his neck I bring him closer. I have no illusions that this is going to take shape immediately, hell this is three decades of shutting people out that I’m fighting against. But I decide right now that it’s fucking worth it.
“Yeah? I think I can do that,” He says as he leans down and captures my mouth in his, “Come home with me?”
“Brian, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” with that, he looks absolutely wounded, “but I also think that we should talk more about some things before we fall into the same patterns again. Let me grab my jacket and we’ll see where this goes”
”mmm…you talk too much” He grins, tongue in cheek.
“Yes, and you don’t talk enough, and that’s exactly what gets you into trouble”
“Justin…let’s just go home”
Brian’s POV
During the ride to the loft, he talks some more about things we need to work on and how it was possible we ended up in the same place. Suddenly, he asks me again what I want from him. This time, I have no way out of answering him, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I was terrified. Given the fact that, throughout our…relationship, he’s pretty much called all the shots. When he wanted out, all he had to do was say the words and leave (okay, so what if my foot was planted firmly on his ass?). If he was unhappy, I did the bending, the changing (albeit, kicking and screaming, but change occurred). But now, he’s giving me a chance to speak up? I don’t answer, and for the last several minutes back to the loft, the car is silent. In the elevator, neither of us speaks. It isn’t until we are sitting on the couch facing each other that he finally speaks up, “Brian, I’m serious, what do you want from me? I want this to be an equal partnership and it can’t be that way until we both put everything on the table.”
I open my mouth, but stop myself. And then, “What do I want?” He nods. “I guess I want you to not shut down when you aren’t happy with something…don’t shut me out. I’m not a mind reader, I can’t know what I’m doing wrong if you don’t at least give me a clue. You may be younger than me age wise, but as you’ve said before you are years my senior when it comes to this emotional business. I want you to understand that I don’t open myself up like other people do; and that the reason for that is my fucked up childhood. I want you to know that just because I don’t say the words…doesn’t mean I don’t feel them. I need you to know…that there will never be anybody else that will get even remotely close to the area buried so deep within that you have always had access to, and that you have the ability to utterly break me.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I nod giving him the consent he needs, like that’s ever stopped him before, “Why can you say ‘I love you’ to Michael and Lindsey?”
After several moments, “I think it has to do with the simple fact that I know they will never have the part of me that you have everyday we’re together. They need me in ways that I don't have to work at. In a way, their happiness isn't dependent on my happiness, but on my flaws. They love me because the flaws are the constant in their lives. When I tell them that I love them, it's just to keep them in a dream world of sorts where they are the only ones I need. With you, it's completely different. You know my flaws, and don't automatically accept that they are the be all end all. You look beyond the surface to a place no one else has ever bothered to venture. And the fact that you have this knowledge-and have had, in some form, since the first night-terrifies the shit out of me. And like I said before, you are it for me. If…no, when, you decide to leave me, you already have the one part of me that means anything, the one part of me that I have had locked away since I was a teenager, I am left with nothing as it is. And if I were to say the words you want to hear, it would be even more devastating when you leave. I guess that’s why sex has never been about an emotional connection, it was always about me and having my needs met-that is, until some twink came along and changed all of that.”
He looks at me softly, takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. We are so emotionally and physically exhausted, everything is a slow, calculated move. Both so raw after our conversation, we simply help each other remove our clothes and then kiss for a long time, welcoming the lack of words, communicating the only way I am truly fluent. It is apparent this is not going to lead to anything else so I just hold him, his head nuzzled into my neck and our arms and legs entwined so that I no longer know where he ends and I begin (Christ! Could I be more lesbionic?); I feel his breathing slow down to an even pace. It is then that I whisper into his hair the words that so often catch in my throat before I even have a chance to let him know; the words that terrify me more than anything because I know that this is it, he is my future.
“I love you"
Written By: sxy_readr3
Timeline: Episode 507
Rating: PG-13-R (language)
What if: Justin had interrupted Brian yelling at Michael in 507
Author's Notes: This is my first fic and I am so incredibly nervous, please be gentle *lol* I was also unable to get this beta’d since I was out of town but I have read through this about a million times…hopefully it doesn’t suck too bad
Brian’s POV
Stumbling up the walk, I wonder what the hell I’m doing here at this hour. But, I have some stuff on my chest that I need to get out there. I lost the one thing in my life that means more to me than anything and the bottle of beam has helped me to see things oh so clearly. I’m pounding on the door for what seems like an eternity, the cigarette in my mouth. I hardly recognize the man in the glass reflection. Who is this man having these thoughts? Who is this man who lets a piece of blond boy ass throw him into a tizzy simply because I'm not enough for him? Who is this man willing to risk his friendship? Then, Ben is opening the door pulling me in and I’m yelling-I don’t even know what I’m saying, it’s as if I am watching the scene unfold on a television set.
And then Michael emerges from the staircase stopping what I’m sure was a dazzling display of testosterone. And then it all comes out in unrestrained rage. I have never talked to Mikey this way, but it feels so good to put the blame onto somebody else instead of having all of it placed rightfully on my shoulders.
“Well Mikey, Congratulations…” He of course does not understand and I let him know exactly what I think of his act of innocence. But he's fighting back, and this has never happened before, he is usually one to stand idly by and allow me to call him all sorts of names. Good for you Mikey, you finally grew a pair.
Justin’s POV
As soon as I heard the knock, I knew it was Brian. Nobody else can express their wrath in quite the same way that he can--even in things as simple as banging on a door. I got out of bed and went out into the hallway ready to respond should things get messy. Then came the commotion and I feared Ben might have gone off on Brian. Luckily for everybody, Michael intervened.
Now, Standing here, at the top of the staircase, I hear the words; Brian blaming Mikey for our breakup, for infecting me, planting ideas into my ‘blond little head’. It is surprising to hear all of those things, because during the Ethan fiasco, Brian was stoic throughout. Actually, if Brian had any reaction whatsoever, it would have undermined what he wanted everybody to believe; that what he and I had back then was nothing more than a good fuck; there were no locks on our doors, we were free to go anytime. After hearing Michael tell Brian that I was never perfectly happy, I decide I’ve heard enough.
“It's okay Michael...I think it’s time for you to go, Brian.”
“Well, if it isn’t Justin Taylor. The man who can’t make up his own god damned mind when it comes to what he wants. Tell me, how the fuck can a man please you? Ian couldn’t live up to your expectations, even with all of the fancy bullshit words, and I sure as fuck can’t!”
“Brian, I real…”
“No, Justin! Perhaps we should take a little trip down memory lane”
In the midst of his tirade, he’s moving Mikey’s living room furniture around. He then goes into the dining room and comes back with a chair, which he puts in front of the coffee table. Walking over to me, he grabs the front of my shirt and pushes me down to sit, then he walks around the table and sits on the sofa.
“You walked into my office that night, all those years ago. You told me you gave it some thought and that I should take you back; that you fucking knew what to expect from me. Why are we still having this same conversation? Why did you leave again for the very thing that you said that you had accepted? What can I do if, what you expect from me, isn’t enough? What do you want from me?”
“Come on Brian, put your jacket on, let’s go outside. Michael and Ben have heard enough.”
“Just answer the fucking question! We are not Mikey and Ben! And we’re sure as hell not Melanie and Lindsay! I would have thought that you would have figured that out, that I am not about flowers and candy and bullshit words, I'm about action! Those tricks mean nothing to me. Can’t you see when you and I are fucking…or, whatever the fuck you want to call it, I’m with you completely. There is no one else. The tricks simply provide a way to get my needs met!”
“But WHY am I not enough for you, Brian? Why can’t you just tell me what you want from me?” I ask, getting worked up myself.
“It’s not that simple. It’s…I don’t know how to be what you want me to be”
God, he sounds so desperate, like a child wanting acceptance.
“But, do you even understand what it is that I want? What you think I want from you is for you to be completely monogamous. I’ve never asked you for that…I could never ask that of you. All I am asking is that you let me know that I mean something to you, that I am more than just another fuck for you to add to the list of men you’ve had. I need to know these things. I’m not asking you to declare your undying love for me. I’m asking for a simple ‘I care about you’. I’m asking for the occasional night out that doesn't include the baths or Babylon. I’m asking you to not deny that what we have is real. I am asking for an equal part in this relationship. And I’m asking that you not bring men into our home, into our bed”
He looks at me sternly before asking, “I have a pretty good track record of fucking shit up, I don't think I can do this without some assistance.”
“Of course, I just want you to give it your best, for you to show me that you're trying” placing my hand behind his neck I bring him closer. I have no illusions that this is going to take shape immediately, hell this is three decades of shutting people out that I’m fighting against. But I decide right now that it’s fucking worth it.
“Yeah? I think I can do that,” He says as he leans down and captures my mouth in his, “Come home with me?”
“Brian, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” with that, he looks absolutely wounded, “but I also think that we should talk more about some things before we fall into the same patterns again. Let me grab my jacket and we’ll see where this goes”
”mmm…you talk too much” He grins, tongue in cheek.
“Yes, and you don’t talk enough, and that’s exactly what gets you into trouble”
“Justin…let’s just go home”
Brian’s POV
During the ride to the loft, he talks some more about things we need to work on and how it was possible we ended up in the same place. Suddenly, he asks me again what I want from him. This time, I have no way out of answering him, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I was terrified. Given the fact that, throughout our…relationship, he’s pretty much called all the shots. When he wanted out, all he had to do was say the words and leave (okay, so what if my foot was planted firmly on his ass?). If he was unhappy, I did the bending, the changing (albeit, kicking and screaming, but change occurred). But now, he’s giving me a chance to speak up? I don’t answer, and for the last several minutes back to the loft, the car is silent. In the elevator, neither of us speaks. It isn’t until we are sitting on the couch facing each other that he finally speaks up, “Brian, I’m serious, what do you want from me? I want this to be an equal partnership and it can’t be that way until we both put everything on the table.”
I open my mouth, but stop myself. And then, “What do I want?” He nods. “I guess I want you to not shut down when you aren’t happy with something…don’t shut me out. I’m not a mind reader, I can’t know what I’m doing wrong if you don’t at least give me a clue. You may be younger than me age wise, but as you’ve said before you are years my senior when it comes to this emotional business. I want you to understand that I don’t open myself up like other people do; and that the reason for that is my fucked up childhood. I want you to know that just because I don’t say the words…doesn’t mean I don’t feel them. I need you to know…that there will never be anybody else that will get even remotely close to the area buried so deep within that you have always had access to, and that you have the ability to utterly break me.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I nod giving him the consent he needs, like that’s ever stopped him before, “Why can you say ‘I love you’ to Michael and Lindsey?”
After several moments, “I think it has to do with the simple fact that I know they will never have the part of me that you have everyday we’re together. They need me in ways that I don't have to work at. In a way, their happiness isn't dependent on my happiness, but on my flaws. They love me because the flaws are the constant in their lives. When I tell them that I love them, it's just to keep them in a dream world of sorts where they are the only ones I need. With you, it's completely different. You know my flaws, and don't automatically accept that they are the be all end all. You look beyond the surface to a place no one else has ever bothered to venture. And the fact that you have this knowledge-and have had, in some form, since the first night-terrifies the shit out of me. And like I said before, you are it for me. If…no, when, you decide to leave me, you already have the one part of me that means anything, the one part of me that I have had locked away since I was a teenager, I am left with nothing as it is. And if I were to say the words you want to hear, it would be even more devastating when you leave. I guess that’s why sex has never been about an emotional connection, it was always about me and having my needs met-that is, until some twink came along and changed all of that.”
He looks at me softly, takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. We are so emotionally and physically exhausted, everything is a slow, calculated move. Both so raw after our conversation, we simply help each other remove our clothes and then kiss for a long time, welcoming the lack of words, communicating the only way I am truly fluent. It is apparent this is not going to lead to anything else so I just hold him, his head nuzzled into my neck and our arms and legs entwined so that I no longer know where he ends and I begin (Christ! Could I be more lesbionic?); I feel his breathing slow down to an even pace. It is then that I whisper into his hair the words that so often catch in my throat before I even have a chance to let him know; the words that terrify me more than anything because I know that this is it, he is my future.
“I love you"