Family Festivities: Part 2/2 (NC-17; Brian/Justin, Jennifer, Molly, Tucker, OCs)
Title: Family Festivities (2/2)
Author: Etharei
Fandom: Queer as Folk (US)
Characters: Brian/Justin, Jennifer Taylor, Molly Taylor, Tucker, a host of OCs
Timeline: Future
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Speaking of whom, does your family know he’s coming?" She hesitated, but Tucker knew that this was one of the biggest things plaguing her all day. "They do. At least, they know that Justin is bringing his partner."
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all the characters and situations featured therein are the property of Showtime, Cowlip Productions and their affiliates. I’m only borrowing them for purely non-profit, recreational purposes, and promise to replenish the condom and lube supply when I’m done.
Author's Notes: Written for the 'Christmas/New Year Challenge' at qaf-challenges.
FAMILY FESTIVITIES (continued)
Talk about sitting on colony of- well, wasps.
“So, Brian, what do you do?” the one who looked very much like a younger version of Jennifer (Jean?) asked amid the clank of metal against china.
He made sure to finish his mouthful of chicken and mashed potatoes first before answering, “I’m the president and CEO of Kinnetik, an advertising company based here in Pittsburgh.”
Across the table from him, Thomas made a noise of surprise. “That’s the biggest ad company on the east coast!”
Brian smiled modestly. “Last year’s ratings say so, yes.”
“How much do you make?”
“Between us, Justin and I are very comfortable.”
“I have to say,” Bruno the Bear piped up (Brian suspected his name was actually Patrick), “you don’t look at all like what I expected you to.”
“Oh?” Brian raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “In what way?” He vaguely recalled being told, in Jen’s debriefing the other day, that this man had been close to Justin’s asshole father.
“Well,” his wife joined in. “You look so... straight.”
“Excuse me?”
“I do agree.” This one came from the woman Brian had immediately penned as Joan Kinney Wannabe within five minutes of being introduced, due to the shiny gold crucifix handing around her neck and the way she seemed to be trying to look at him through her nostrils. “I would not have thought you to be homosexual if I had not been told beforehand.”
“I suppose it’s safer to be discreet about it these days, huh?” Husband of Joan Wannabe threw in.
Justin put his knife down. “Actually, we usually wear these rainbow badges- you know, to let everyone know that we’re gay- but tonight we decided to go incognito.”
“Justin.” Jennifer said quietly the other side of the table.
“You know, Brian also owns this gay dance club called ‘Babylon’, down in Liberty Avenue. You guys should come and take a look sometimes, you’ll find gay men of all shapes and sizes there. Some of them even look like normal people.”
Brian wondered if there was something sacrilegious in him finding his younger lover really, really hot right then, his pale skin lightly tinged with red while he glared at the assembly of relatives, one being his mostly silent grandmother.
“Excuse me.” Justin hastily wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “The food was delicious, Mom, and I love what you did with the stuffed mushrooms, Tucker.”
Similarly excusing himself, Brian got up and followed his lover to the front yard, where Justin was struggling with an uncooperative lighter, a cigarette already in his mouth. “Here,” he took the lighter and, with considerably steadier hands, lit Justin’s cigarette. “A bit tense in there, isn’t it?”
“Hmmphf.” Justin laughed bitterly. “Their eyes make my skin crawl. Or maybe it’s how they’re always so fucking polite, even when they’re insulting you. That’s unnatural, if anything is.”
“Are you sure the crawling sensation is not just nicotine withdrawal?”
A snort. “My own fucking family. I knew there was a reason I’ve been avoiding this sort of thing.”
“Here, give me some of that.” Brian took a deep draw from the cigarette, and felt his nerves steady. “Well, as Debbie would say, at least now you know, and you’re not plagued by ‘what-ifs’.”
“I feel so much better.” For long minutes Justin stared out into the dark night. Then he spun around and mashed his lips against Brian’s, pushing him into the cold outer wall. Brian let the cigarette drop onto the snow and slid his arms around his lover’s waist, relishing the warmth of Justin’s body as he gently grazed his teeth against the wet tongue stroking the inside of his mouth with desperate, heart-stopping slowness.
“Brian,” Justin breathed against his lips when he finally pulled away. “Just because they’re my family doesn’t give them the excuse to be shitty to us. Don’t treat them any differently from anyone else on account of me. Or my mother.”
Brian blinked. “What are you talking about? I never treat anyone differently.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Right.” After another kiss, “Thanks. Let’s go back in; it’s been long enough that they probably think you fucked me all better.”
Brian chuckled and brushed back Justin’s hair. They returned inside, and saw that everyone, sans Jennifer and Molly and Tucker, had returned to the living room. The conversation quietened considerably when people caught sight of them. They went back to where they’d been standing before dinner; from his expression, Brian was reasonably sure that Justin would soon ask if they could leave, and to be honest with himself he wasn’t so sure that wasn’t the right idea.
“I want you to know that I think it’s disgusting,” said a voice near the roaring fireplace.
The whole living room went totally silent. A few people looked away- notably the ones who’d been nice to the two of them the whole night. Which meant that something big, bad, and probably ugly was coming. Brian, however, felt himself relax; if there was anything worse than being hated because he was gay, it was being hated for being gay by people who would pretend they hated him for something else.
Of course, he’d just been given license to be an irritating shit, and after a night of good behaviour he was more than ready to pop a few prime blue blood vessels. “What, in the pantheon of things that could be described as disgusting, are you referring to exactly?” he said in the tone that usually had Ted shifting his feet nervously. Beside him, Justin relaxed, and Brian wondered if this was what he’d been referring to outside.
“This... mockery you are making of a loving relationship,” Joyce continued. “And I know that I’m not the only one who feels this way. It’s unnatural and it’s disgusting.” Seriously, Brian thought, these arguments are getting as old and clichéd as someone pleading that they’ve had a bad childhood. “I know that my sister’s given up on you, Justin, but it’s about time someone said it. It’s no wonder that Craig left, though he should have stayed and tried to right you.”
“So,” Brian cut in. “It’s Justin’s fault that his parents got divorced? You’re saying that if Justin had stayed in the closet, Jennifer would have been perfectly happy with Craig shacking it up with other women?”
“People make mistakes!”
“Yeah, I’m sure he was showing his remorse when he remarried less than two years after their divorce.”
“Though, to be fair, he did tried to ‘right’ me,” Justin said thoughtfully. “Left me with a red mark on my face and Brian with sprained ribs.”
“If I were your mother-“
“But you’re not,” came a voice from the dining area. Jennifer came striding purposefully towards Joan Wannabe. “I am his mother, and I love him, exactly as he is, because if he weren’t gay then he wouldn’t be my Justin." She warningly brandished a wooden spatula at them all. "And neither they nor the law may recognise it, but Brian is my son-in-law, and as my guests I expect you to treat him so under my roof.”
#
“Justin?” A woman emerged from out of the swarm of bodies collecting various coats, bags, hats and scarves and came up to Brian and Justin. “I want you to know that not everyone feels the same way as your Aunt Joyce does. Alan and I will be in town for the rest of the week- I’d like it if the two of you have dinner with us some time.”
Justin smiled. “I’d love to, Aunt Jean. Brian?”
“We’ll be there.” Really, what else did Justin expect him to say? After a moment’s hesitation, he took out a name card. “In fact, here’s the address to our house. It’s pretty far out, and sometimes we’re not there, so call first, but it’d be great to have you over for dinner.”
“I make a mean chicken parmesan,” Justin added.
“But don’t tell Jennifer. She might stop feeding us, and he’s too lazy to cook all the time.”
“This from a guy whose idea of breakfast is guava juice from a carton.”
Jean laughed. “The two of you are something else.” She pecked Justin on the cheek. “See you later, then. And you-“ she looked at Brian, who made ready to step back in case she tried to kiss him. But she only said, “Take care of him, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
#
Jennifer slumped against the shut door for a moment, having never felt so relieved to hear a quiet house once more. She climbed the stairs back up to the living room, where her mother was sitting on the chair she’d been occupying since after dinner. “Mom?”
The old woman blinked and turned to face her. “Yes, dear?”
“Are you all right?” Jennifer went to perch on the Ottoman in front of the chair. “You’ve barely said a word all evening.”
“I think there was enough talking,” Frances said with a rueful smile. “And I’ve been thinking.”
“I haven’t had much time to talk to you, I’m sorry,” Jennifer said quietly. “How are things?”
“Good, considering how I’m getting on with the years.” Her mother straightened up. “You’ve changed, Jenny. The girl who’d always quietly watch over her brothers and sisters would not have done and said what you did. There was a reason we called you Jenny-lamb.”
“I’m not so sure,” Jennifer disputed with a smile. “A mother would do anything to protect the children she loves. I remember you being particularly vehement when Jean was being picked on at school, or when Tom was arguing with his ex-wife before their divorce.”
Frances smiled as well. “I guess.” She sighed. “And they should feel the same for their grandchildren, shouldn’t they? But I must confess, Jenny-lamb, that I feel the same way as Joyce. I just… after dinner, we could see them outside the window, kissing. I admire you for standing with your son, but it just feels so unnatural.”
Jennifer exhaled heavily and looked away. “At first I was like that, too.” She put her hand on top of her mother’s. “But he’s still the same person. He’s still kind and playful and mature for his age, and a brilliant artist.” Her voice dropped. “Don’t tell him this, but I think his art is better, more inspired, when he’s with Brian.”
Frances frowned. “I thought they’ve been together all these years.”
“Generally speaking, yes, but they’ve had a number of rough patches, and I know Justin told you about LA and New York.”
They heard footsteps, and Justin stepped out from the dining room. “Would you like something to drink, Grandma?”
“Just water, please.” When Justin disappeared back into the kitchen, Frances said, “I like Tucker, though. He’s obviously smitten by you.”
Jennifer smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
As if on cue, there was the sound of voices, and Tucker and Brian climbed down the stairs from dining room and kitchen. For some reason water had started leaking out from under the sink during the evening, and Tucker had enlisted Brian’s help in looking for the leak. Molly and Justin had been put in charge of wrapping the leftovers and putting them in the fridge.
“Screw came loose,” Tucker reported, pressing a kiss to Jennifer’s temple. “Fixed it now. Thanks for the help, Brian.”
“No problem.”
“Here, Grandma,” Justin came down as well, a glass of water in his hand. When he got to about a few steps away from Frances, his hand suddenly began violently shaking. In an instant, Brian was at his side, having already taken the glass just as it slipped out of Justin’s grasp. Brian handed the water to Frances, and then with practiced movements began massaging the constricting hand.
“Are you all right, Justin?” asked his concerned grandmother
Justin’s face was bright red. “Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he waved his other hand dismissively. “It does that sometimes when I’m tired.”
“You were drawing all day, and helped Debbie to haul groceries since Emmett had a party,” Brian said in rebuking tones as he patiently coaxed the tense muscles to relax. “Your knuckles were white from gripping the fork throughout dinner, you had a smoke, and then you went and volunteered to wash the dishes when you were already stressed out from all the shit.”
“I’m sorry!”
“You know what I think about sorry. Just- don’t push it.”
“I’ll try, dear.”
Brian stuck his tongue into his cheek, half-grinning. “Do or do not,” he said in a somewhat frightening imitation of Yoda. “There is no try.”
Justin groaned. “If you’re thinking about getting any tonight, don’t do that again, ‘cause there’s no way I’m fucking Yoda.”
“You’ve got that right-“
Jennifer cleared her throat. The two men froze, and looked abashedly at Justin’s grandmother, though- Jennifer was quick to notice- not to her. “Why don’t you two go finish off in the kitchen?”
As they scampered off and Brian said something to Justin that made him snicker, Jennifer blushed and called out, “I meant your hand, and you know it!”
She turned, anticipating a scandalous expression on her mother’s face. Frances didn’t look as outraged as Jennifer had dreaded, but her lips arched down in a frown. “You really have no problem with this.”
“No,” Jennifer said firmly. “I don’t. They love each other, and my son is happy. That’s all that matters.”
Frances sniffed. “Love? If perversion of Nature can be called love, I suppose.”
“Mother.” Jennifer’s voice was steel. “You know that I love and respect you, but what I said to Joyce applies to you, too. If you can’t keep a civil tongue, then I’ll drive you to Tom’s hotel and rent you a room for the rest of your stay.”
Frances looked taken aback, and for a long moment stared at her eldest child in expression that mingled disbelief with puzzlement. Eventually she shook her head. “It was rude of me, I apologise.” She sighed. “But, Jennifer, I’m only thinking about Justin.” She paused, gesticulating with her hand as if she found it difficult to speak. “A man needs a woman, and a woman a man, to feel complete. And I’d have thought that you, of all people, would know that men, after a time, will have the tendency to… wander. Women these days find it hard enough to hold on to their men- how much more difficult would it be if they were both men! Eventually this Brian will get restless and break Justin’s heart. You said that they’ve already gone through some rough times.”
Now it was Jennifer’s turn to stare at her mother. The urge to laugh bubbled up to her throat; she repressed it with great difficulty. “You’re right, mother. They’re both men. But if men needed women to feel complete, why do I know same-sex couples who’ve been together longer than many of the marriages of my heterosexual friends?” She shook her head. “As for heart-break, well, these days it’s not Justin I worry about.” A pause, then, “I cannot explain to you why, without going into the whole story from the start, but believe me when I say that Brian loves Justin and only Justin, and he always will.”
“Is that what he said?” scoffed Frances.
“It’s exactly what he refuses to say, what he’ll probably never say.” Jennifer sighed. “You won’t understand, without knowing him. But it’s in everything he does. He’ll never love anyone else, only Justin.” Jennifer’s voice broke a little at the last, her eyes bright and steadfast as she fixed them on her mother.
Brian and Justin returned to the living room at that point, faces alight with mischief.
“You.” She pointed a finger at Brian. “Do you love my grandson?”
The smile on Brian’s face was immediately wiped off. He looked, for a moment, like a very tall, handsome buck caught in the light of approaching matronly headlights.
“Yes,” Justin said firmly. “He does.”
Frances’ eyes flitted to Justin. “How can you be so sure? And why are you the one answering?”
“Because I’m the one those words those words have meaning for.” Justin exhaled heavily. “I know this can’t be easy for you, Grandma. But it’s been really rough for us, too. Could you, at least, give it a try? Mom and Molly miss you. I miss you.”
Jennifer watched a strange sort of eye showdown between her mother and Justin, and it occurred to her that he must have gotten his single-minded determination from someone. Finally Frances nodded once, a little sharply, and Jennifer glimpsed the ghost of a smile. “Mr. Kinney,” she began. “Allow me to apologise for the behaviour of my daughter. Whatever her feelings, I would hope that I’d taught my children to at least remember their manners.”
Brian, surprisingly enough, shook his head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Moore. And you aren’t answerable for your daughter’s behaviour. If Jennifer’s anything to go by, you were an exemplary mother.” Jennifer thought that her jaw must have hit the floor; but Frances’ eyes were on Justin, whose face had broken into the bright, blinding smile that had given him his nickname.
#
“Jenny-lamb, who’s this?”
Jennifer walked into the room. Frances showed her the framed photograph that had held pride of place on the room’s bookshelf. It was of Brian and Justin, wrapped in layers of expensive cotton and wool, smiling at the camera in front of a backdrop of thick snow and wooden buildings in the distance. They were sitting on a wooden bench, and between them, sitting on one leg each, was a Gus caught mid-laughter. A closer look revealed that Brian and Justin had both been tickling him when the camera flashed.
Jennifer smiled, leaning in for a closer look herself, though she obviously knew which photograph it was. “That’s Gus. He’s Brian’s son. Justin named him.”
“His son?” Frances echoed, a finger tracing over the smooth glass cover of the photograph. And Justin was there the night he was born? She looked at the date on the photograph. And the boy looked about eight to nine years old in the picture. It strikes her, then, that they'd been together longer than many married couples can claim. “Where is he now?”
“He lives in Toronto now with his mothers,” Jennifer explained, putting particular emphasis on the last word. “Brian and Justin go up there to visit him every few months, and he spends all the major holidays down here.”
“I see.” Frances contemplated the photograph for a while. Yes, she felt uneasy about the whole business; even in her youth she’d never adapted well to change. But there was no denying that the young man looked genuinely happy in the picture, beside a man twelve years his senior, just like he’d looked that night. The bright smile he’d given only his tall, beautiful partner, and a couple of times to his mother, until that last one that had been aimed towards her. And the conviction with which he’d said that this man loved him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it was the absolute, irrefutable truth. Frances had attended many marriages in her life, more than she could count, but she’d never come across that tone, that brand of surety. “I recognise some of Justin’s things in here.”
“Yes. This was his room- still is, whenever he comes to stay, although he’s never really lived here. The longest he ever stayed was after he got out of the hospital, after the bashing at the prom.”
She met her daughter’s eyes. “I’m sorry I was not more help. I could have come here.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think I would have wanted you to be here, anyway. And considering how Justin was, it might have made things worse.”
“But he got better.”
“Yes. Thanks to Brian.” Jennifer smiled sadly. “I hated Brian at first- he was Justin’s first love, as well as being every nightmare a mother dreads. But I think it was when he stayed away after I asked him to that I realised that he did really care about Justin. I’ve never even told Justin that he was there at the hospital, every single night. Maybe Brian has. But I don’t think I need to, now.”
Frances looked out the window, silently thinking. The night was cold and dark outside, but she could still see Justin’s brilliant smile, like a strange after-image, only not on her eyes. “Do you think they would accept an invitation to lunch? Only, you must tell me the good places to eat in this town. And I’d like to see that house Brian mentioned.”
She didn’t see it, but the force of Jennifer’s smile could be felt in the air. “I’m sure they’d love that.”
Frances nodded, then cocked her head. “Wasn’t Justin’s favourite teddy bear named Gus?”
#
Brian could feel the individual hairs on Justin’s legs underneath the sweaty, hypersensitive palms of his hands, his lightly trembling shoulders. He rocked forward, and back, forward, and back, his hips snapping a little on the forward, obeying a rhythm that seemed to echo his thundering heart. Beneath him, Justin clawed at the sheets, arching his back off the thoroughly dishevelled bed. The smooth line of his glistening, pale body writhing underneath Brian’s, a rippling of muscle that could be felt by his hard, seeping cock every time he pushed into Justin’s heated, slippery passage.
His lover was beyond words by the time he came; he threw his head back and opened his mouth wide, no sound making it out. Brian was breathless at the sight- or maybe it was the muscles clamping down on his cock when it was pretty much bursting, catapulting him into hot, liquid, searing heat. Then Justin reached up and yanked his head down, kissing him with an open mouth, and somehow that seemed to extend his orgasm.
When he came down, he was definitely shaking. Justin smiled tiredly at him. “I’m sorry for making you go with me.”
“I’m not. Do you know how much skill it takes to get a simultaneous orgasm?”
Justin swatted his arm. “Brian! Be serious.”
“I am.” Brian touched Justin’s nose with his, transferring a drop of sweat. “And you didn’t make me.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Right. Brian Kinney never does anything he doesn’t want to do.” He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen in front of Brian’s eyes. “Thanks, anyway.”
“You, too.” It could mean anything. Years ago he wouldn’t even have let the conversation get this far, and maybe years ago Justin would have kept at him, asking for specifics and meanings and underneath that wanting a security that he’d thought only Brian could give. Now he’d found it in himself, and so Brian felt safer, too.
Justin kissed him on the lips. “Merry Christmas.”
“Happy Holidays,” Brian mumbled reluctantly, a rebel to the end.
Rolling his eyes in an exasperated manner, Justin moved his butt up and down Brian’s dick, still buried inside him. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Getting ready for round three, Brian murmured, “I do,” and set himself to showing Justin why. At least, part of the ‘why’.
But quite a big part, nonetheless.
Season's Greetings to the QAF fandom!
<< Family Festivities (1/2)
Author: Etharei
Fandom: Queer as Folk (US)
Characters: Brian/Justin, Jennifer Taylor, Molly Taylor, Tucker, a host of OCs
Timeline: Future
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Speaking of whom, does your family know he’s coming?" She hesitated, but Tucker knew that this was one of the biggest things plaguing her all day. "They do. At least, they know that Justin is bringing his partner."
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all the characters and situations featured therein are the property of Showtime, Cowlip Productions and their affiliates. I’m only borrowing them for purely non-profit, recreational purposes, and promise to replenish the condom and lube supply when I’m done.
Author's Notes: Written for the 'Christmas/New Year Challenge' at qaf-challenges.
FAMILY FESTIVITIES (continued)
Talk about sitting on colony of- well, wasps.
“So, Brian, what do you do?” the one who looked very much like a younger version of Jennifer (Jean?) asked amid the clank of metal against china.
He made sure to finish his mouthful of chicken and mashed potatoes first before answering, “I’m the president and CEO of Kinnetik, an advertising company based here in Pittsburgh.”
Across the table from him, Thomas made a noise of surprise. “That’s the biggest ad company on the east coast!”
Brian smiled modestly. “Last year’s ratings say so, yes.”
“How much do you make?”
“Between us, Justin and I are very comfortable.”
“I have to say,” Bruno the Bear piped up (Brian suspected his name was actually Patrick), “you don’t look at all like what I expected you to.”
“Oh?” Brian raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “In what way?” He vaguely recalled being told, in Jen’s debriefing the other day, that this man had been close to Justin’s asshole father.
“Well,” his wife joined in. “You look so... straight.”
“Excuse me?”
“I do agree.” This one came from the woman Brian had immediately penned as Joan Kinney Wannabe within five minutes of being introduced, due to the shiny gold crucifix handing around her neck and the way she seemed to be trying to look at him through her nostrils. “I would not have thought you to be homosexual if I had not been told beforehand.”
“I suppose it’s safer to be discreet about it these days, huh?” Husband of Joan Wannabe threw in.
Justin put his knife down. “Actually, we usually wear these rainbow badges- you know, to let everyone know that we’re gay- but tonight we decided to go incognito.”
“Justin.” Jennifer said quietly the other side of the table.
“You know, Brian also owns this gay dance club called ‘Babylon’, down in Liberty Avenue. You guys should come and take a look sometimes, you’ll find gay men of all shapes and sizes there. Some of them even look like normal people.”
Brian wondered if there was something sacrilegious in him finding his younger lover really, really hot right then, his pale skin lightly tinged with red while he glared at the assembly of relatives, one being his mostly silent grandmother.
“Excuse me.” Justin hastily wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “The food was delicious, Mom, and I love what you did with the stuffed mushrooms, Tucker.”
Similarly excusing himself, Brian got up and followed his lover to the front yard, where Justin was struggling with an uncooperative lighter, a cigarette already in his mouth. “Here,” he took the lighter and, with considerably steadier hands, lit Justin’s cigarette. “A bit tense in there, isn’t it?”
“Hmmphf.” Justin laughed bitterly. “Their eyes make my skin crawl. Or maybe it’s how they’re always so fucking polite, even when they’re insulting you. That’s unnatural, if anything is.”
“Are you sure the crawling sensation is not just nicotine withdrawal?”
A snort. “My own fucking family. I knew there was a reason I’ve been avoiding this sort of thing.”
“Here, give me some of that.” Brian took a deep draw from the cigarette, and felt his nerves steady. “Well, as Debbie would say, at least now you know, and you’re not plagued by ‘what-ifs’.”
“I feel so much better.” For long minutes Justin stared out into the dark night. Then he spun around and mashed his lips against Brian’s, pushing him into the cold outer wall. Brian let the cigarette drop onto the snow and slid his arms around his lover’s waist, relishing the warmth of Justin’s body as he gently grazed his teeth against the wet tongue stroking the inside of his mouth with desperate, heart-stopping slowness.
“Brian,” Justin breathed against his lips when he finally pulled away. “Just because they’re my family doesn’t give them the excuse to be shitty to us. Don’t treat them any differently from anyone else on account of me. Or my mother.”
Brian blinked. “What are you talking about? I never treat anyone differently.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Right.” After another kiss, “Thanks. Let’s go back in; it’s been long enough that they probably think you fucked me all better.”
Brian chuckled and brushed back Justin’s hair. They returned inside, and saw that everyone, sans Jennifer and Molly and Tucker, had returned to the living room. The conversation quietened considerably when people caught sight of them. They went back to where they’d been standing before dinner; from his expression, Brian was reasonably sure that Justin would soon ask if they could leave, and to be honest with himself he wasn’t so sure that wasn’t the right idea.
“I want you to know that I think it’s disgusting,” said a voice near the roaring fireplace.
The whole living room went totally silent. A few people looked away- notably the ones who’d been nice to the two of them the whole night. Which meant that something big, bad, and probably ugly was coming. Brian, however, felt himself relax; if there was anything worse than being hated because he was gay, it was being hated for being gay by people who would pretend they hated him for something else.
Of course, he’d just been given license to be an irritating shit, and after a night of good behaviour he was more than ready to pop a few prime blue blood vessels. “What, in the pantheon of things that could be described as disgusting, are you referring to exactly?” he said in the tone that usually had Ted shifting his feet nervously. Beside him, Justin relaxed, and Brian wondered if this was what he’d been referring to outside.
“This... mockery you are making of a loving relationship,” Joyce continued. “And I know that I’m not the only one who feels this way. It’s unnatural and it’s disgusting.” Seriously, Brian thought, these arguments are getting as old and clichéd as someone pleading that they’ve had a bad childhood. “I know that my sister’s given up on you, Justin, but it’s about time someone said it. It’s no wonder that Craig left, though he should have stayed and tried to right you.”
“So,” Brian cut in. “It’s Justin’s fault that his parents got divorced? You’re saying that if Justin had stayed in the closet, Jennifer would have been perfectly happy with Craig shacking it up with other women?”
“People make mistakes!”
“Yeah, I’m sure he was showing his remorse when he remarried less than two years after their divorce.”
“Though, to be fair, he did tried to ‘right’ me,” Justin said thoughtfully. “Left me with a red mark on my face and Brian with sprained ribs.”
“If I were your mother-“
“But you’re not,” came a voice from the dining area. Jennifer came striding purposefully towards Joan Wannabe. “I am his mother, and I love him, exactly as he is, because if he weren’t gay then he wouldn’t be my Justin." She warningly brandished a wooden spatula at them all. "And neither they nor the law may recognise it, but Brian is my son-in-law, and as my guests I expect you to treat him so under my roof.”
#
“Justin?” A woman emerged from out of the swarm of bodies collecting various coats, bags, hats and scarves and came up to Brian and Justin. “I want you to know that not everyone feels the same way as your Aunt Joyce does. Alan and I will be in town for the rest of the week- I’d like it if the two of you have dinner with us some time.”
Justin smiled. “I’d love to, Aunt Jean. Brian?”
“We’ll be there.” Really, what else did Justin expect him to say? After a moment’s hesitation, he took out a name card. “In fact, here’s the address to our house. It’s pretty far out, and sometimes we’re not there, so call first, but it’d be great to have you over for dinner.”
“I make a mean chicken parmesan,” Justin added.
“But don’t tell Jennifer. She might stop feeding us, and he’s too lazy to cook all the time.”
“This from a guy whose idea of breakfast is guava juice from a carton.”
Jean laughed. “The two of you are something else.” She pecked Justin on the cheek. “See you later, then. And you-“ she looked at Brian, who made ready to step back in case she tried to kiss him. But she only said, “Take care of him, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
#
Jennifer slumped against the shut door for a moment, having never felt so relieved to hear a quiet house once more. She climbed the stairs back up to the living room, where her mother was sitting on the chair she’d been occupying since after dinner. “Mom?”
The old woman blinked and turned to face her. “Yes, dear?”
“Are you all right?” Jennifer went to perch on the Ottoman in front of the chair. “You’ve barely said a word all evening.”
“I think there was enough talking,” Frances said with a rueful smile. “And I’ve been thinking.”
“I haven’t had much time to talk to you, I’m sorry,” Jennifer said quietly. “How are things?”
“Good, considering how I’m getting on with the years.” Her mother straightened up. “You’ve changed, Jenny. The girl who’d always quietly watch over her brothers and sisters would not have done and said what you did. There was a reason we called you Jenny-lamb.”
“I’m not so sure,” Jennifer disputed with a smile. “A mother would do anything to protect the children she loves. I remember you being particularly vehement when Jean was being picked on at school, or when Tom was arguing with his ex-wife before their divorce.”
Frances smiled as well. “I guess.” She sighed. “And they should feel the same for their grandchildren, shouldn’t they? But I must confess, Jenny-lamb, that I feel the same way as Joyce. I just… after dinner, we could see them outside the window, kissing. I admire you for standing with your son, but it just feels so unnatural.”
Jennifer exhaled heavily and looked away. “At first I was like that, too.” She put her hand on top of her mother’s. “But he’s still the same person. He’s still kind and playful and mature for his age, and a brilliant artist.” Her voice dropped. “Don’t tell him this, but I think his art is better, more inspired, when he’s with Brian.”
Frances frowned. “I thought they’ve been together all these years.”
“Generally speaking, yes, but they’ve had a number of rough patches, and I know Justin told you about LA and New York.”
They heard footsteps, and Justin stepped out from the dining room. “Would you like something to drink, Grandma?”
“Just water, please.” When Justin disappeared back into the kitchen, Frances said, “I like Tucker, though. He’s obviously smitten by you.”
Jennifer smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
As if on cue, there was the sound of voices, and Tucker and Brian climbed down the stairs from dining room and kitchen. For some reason water had started leaking out from under the sink during the evening, and Tucker had enlisted Brian’s help in looking for the leak. Molly and Justin had been put in charge of wrapping the leftovers and putting them in the fridge.
“Screw came loose,” Tucker reported, pressing a kiss to Jennifer’s temple. “Fixed it now. Thanks for the help, Brian.”
“No problem.”
“Here, Grandma,” Justin came down as well, a glass of water in his hand. When he got to about a few steps away from Frances, his hand suddenly began violently shaking. In an instant, Brian was at his side, having already taken the glass just as it slipped out of Justin’s grasp. Brian handed the water to Frances, and then with practiced movements began massaging the constricting hand.
“Are you all right, Justin?” asked his concerned grandmother
Justin’s face was bright red. “Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he waved his other hand dismissively. “It does that sometimes when I’m tired.”
“You were drawing all day, and helped Debbie to haul groceries since Emmett had a party,” Brian said in rebuking tones as he patiently coaxed the tense muscles to relax. “Your knuckles were white from gripping the fork throughout dinner, you had a smoke, and then you went and volunteered to wash the dishes when you were already stressed out from all the shit.”
“I’m sorry!”
“You know what I think about sorry. Just- don’t push it.”
“I’ll try, dear.”
Brian stuck his tongue into his cheek, half-grinning. “Do or do not,” he said in a somewhat frightening imitation of Yoda. “There is no try.”
Justin groaned. “If you’re thinking about getting any tonight, don’t do that again, ‘cause there’s no way I’m fucking Yoda.”
“You’ve got that right-“
Jennifer cleared her throat. The two men froze, and looked abashedly at Justin’s grandmother, though- Jennifer was quick to notice- not to her. “Why don’t you two go finish off in the kitchen?”
As they scampered off and Brian said something to Justin that made him snicker, Jennifer blushed and called out, “I meant your hand, and you know it!”
She turned, anticipating a scandalous expression on her mother’s face. Frances didn’t look as outraged as Jennifer had dreaded, but her lips arched down in a frown. “You really have no problem with this.”
“No,” Jennifer said firmly. “I don’t. They love each other, and my son is happy. That’s all that matters.”
Frances sniffed. “Love? If perversion of Nature can be called love, I suppose.”
“Mother.” Jennifer’s voice was steel. “You know that I love and respect you, but what I said to Joyce applies to you, too. If you can’t keep a civil tongue, then I’ll drive you to Tom’s hotel and rent you a room for the rest of your stay.”
Frances looked taken aback, and for a long moment stared at her eldest child in expression that mingled disbelief with puzzlement. Eventually she shook her head. “It was rude of me, I apologise.” She sighed. “But, Jennifer, I’m only thinking about Justin.” She paused, gesticulating with her hand as if she found it difficult to speak. “A man needs a woman, and a woman a man, to feel complete. And I’d have thought that you, of all people, would know that men, after a time, will have the tendency to… wander. Women these days find it hard enough to hold on to their men- how much more difficult would it be if they were both men! Eventually this Brian will get restless and break Justin’s heart. You said that they’ve already gone through some rough times.”
Now it was Jennifer’s turn to stare at her mother. The urge to laugh bubbled up to her throat; she repressed it with great difficulty. “You’re right, mother. They’re both men. But if men needed women to feel complete, why do I know same-sex couples who’ve been together longer than many of the marriages of my heterosexual friends?” She shook her head. “As for heart-break, well, these days it’s not Justin I worry about.” A pause, then, “I cannot explain to you why, without going into the whole story from the start, but believe me when I say that Brian loves Justin and only Justin, and he always will.”
“Is that what he said?” scoffed Frances.
“It’s exactly what he refuses to say, what he’ll probably never say.” Jennifer sighed. “You won’t understand, without knowing him. But it’s in everything he does. He’ll never love anyone else, only Justin.” Jennifer’s voice broke a little at the last, her eyes bright and steadfast as she fixed them on her mother.
Brian and Justin returned to the living room at that point, faces alight with mischief.
“You.” She pointed a finger at Brian. “Do you love my grandson?”
The smile on Brian’s face was immediately wiped off. He looked, for a moment, like a very tall, handsome buck caught in the light of approaching matronly headlights.
“Yes,” Justin said firmly. “He does.”
Frances’ eyes flitted to Justin. “How can you be so sure? And why are you the one answering?”
“Because I’m the one those words those words have meaning for.” Justin exhaled heavily. “I know this can’t be easy for you, Grandma. But it’s been really rough for us, too. Could you, at least, give it a try? Mom and Molly miss you. I miss you.”
Jennifer watched a strange sort of eye showdown between her mother and Justin, and it occurred to her that he must have gotten his single-minded determination from someone. Finally Frances nodded once, a little sharply, and Jennifer glimpsed the ghost of a smile. “Mr. Kinney,” she began. “Allow me to apologise for the behaviour of my daughter. Whatever her feelings, I would hope that I’d taught my children to at least remember their manners.”
Brian, surprisingly enough, shook his head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Moore. And you aren’t answerable for your daughter’s behaviour. If Jennifer’s anything to go by, you were an exemplary mother.” Jennifer thought that her jaw must have hit the floor; but Frances’ eyes were on Justin, whose face had broken into the bright, blinding smile that had given him his nickname.
#
“Jenny-lamb, who’s this?”
Jennifer walked into the room. Frances showed her the framed photograph that had held pride of place on the room’s bookshelf. It was of Brian and Justin, wrapped in layers of expensive cotton and wool, smiling at the camera in front of a backdrop of thick snow and wooden buildings in the distance. They were sitting on a wooden bench, and between them, sitting on one leg each, was a Gus caught mid-laughter. A closer look revealed that Brian and Justin had both been tickling him when the camera flashed.
Jennifer smiled, leaning in for a closer look herself, though she obviously knew which photograph it was. “That’s Gus. He’s Brian’s son. Justin named him.”
“His son?” Frances echoed, a finger tracing over the smooth glass cover of the photograph. And Justin was there the night he was born? She looked at the date on the photograph. And the boy looked about eight to nine years old in the picture. It strikes her, then, that they'd been together longer than many married couples can claim. “Where is he now?”
“He lives in Toronto now with his mothers,” Jennifer explained, putting particular emphasis on the last word. “Brian and Justin go up there to visit him every few months, and he spends all the major holidays down here.”
“I see.” Frances contemplated the photograph for a while. Yes, she felt uneasy about the whole business; even in her youth she’d never adapted well to change. But there was no denying that the young man looked genuinely happy in the picture, beside a man twelve years his senior, just like he’d looked that night. The bright smile he’d given only his tall, beautiful partner, and a couple of times to his mother, until that last one that had been aimed towards her. And the conviction with which he’d said that this man loved him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it was the absolute, irrefutable truth. Frances had attended many marriages in her life, more than she could count, but she’d never come across that tone, that brand of surety. “I recognise some of Justin’s things in here.”
“Yes. This was his room- still is, whenever he comes to stay, although he’s never really lived here. The longest he ever stayed was after he got out of the hospital, after the bashing at the prom.”
She met her daughter’s eyes. “I’m sorry I was not more help. I could have come here.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think I would have wanted you to be here, anyway. And considering how Justin was, it might have made things worse.”
“But he got better.”
“Yes. Thanks to Brian.” Jennifer smiled sadly. “I hated Brian at first- he was Justin’s first love, as well as being every nightmare a mother dreads. But I think it was when he stayed away after I asked him to that I realised that he did really care about Justin. I’ve never even told Justin that he was there at the hospital, every single night. Maybe Brian has. But I don’t think I need to, now.”
Frances looked out the window, silently thinking. The night was cold and dark outside, but she could still see Justin’s brilliant smile, like a strange after-image, only not on her eyes. “Do you think they would accept an invitation to lunch? Only, you must tell me the good places to eat in this town. And I’d like to see that house Brian mentioned.”
She didn’t see it, but the force of Jennifer’s smile could be felt in the air. “I’m sure they’d love that.”
Frances nodded, then cocked her head. “Wasn’t Justin’s favourite teddy bear named Gus?”
#
Brian could feel the individual hairs on Justin’s legs underneath the sweaty, hypersensitive palms of his hands, his lightly trembling shoulders. He rocked forward, and back, forward, and back, his hips snapping a little on the forward, obeying a rhythm that seemed to echo his thundering heart. Beneath him, Justin clawed at the sheets, arching his back off the thoroughly dishevelled bed. The smooth line of his glistening, pale body writhing underneath Brian’s, a rippling of muscle that could be felt by his hard, seeping cock every time he pushed into Justin’s heated, slippery passage.
His lover was beyond words by the time he came; he threw his head back and opened his mouth wide, no sound making it out. Brian was breathless at the sight- or maybe it was the muscles clamping down on his cock when it was pretty much bursting, catapulting him into hot, liquid, searing heat. Then Justin reached up and yanked his head down, kissing him with an open mouth, and somehow that seemed to extend his orgasm.
When he came down, he was definitely shaking. Justin smiled tiredly at him. “I’m sorry for making you go with me.”
“I’m not. Do you know how much skill it takes to get a simultaneous orgasm?”
Justin swatted his arm. “Brian! Be serious.”
“I am.” Brian touched Justin’s nose with his, transferring a drop of sweat. “And you didn’t make me.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Right. Brian Kinney never does anything he doesn’t want to do.” He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen in front of Brian’s eyes. “Thanks, anyway.”
“You, too.” It could mean anything. Years ago he wouldn’t even have let the conversation get this far, and maybe years ago Justin would have kept at him, asking for specifics and meanings and underneath that wanting a security that he’d thought only Brian could give. Now he’d found it in himself, and so Brian felt safer, too.
Justin kissed him on the lips. “Merry Christmas.”
“Happy Holidays,” Brian mumbled reluctantly, a rebel to the end.
Rolling his eyes in an exasperated manner, Justin moved his butt up and down Brian’s dick, still buried inside him. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Getting ready for round three, Brian murmured, “I do,” and set himself to showing Justin why. At least, part of the ‘why’.
But quite a big part, nonetheless.
Season's Greetings to the QAF fandom!
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