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xheartrockx
FROM:delvalmom
TITLE: Another Chance at Heaven
WORD COUNT: about 1500
GIFT REQUEST: Fic, fluff with a little bit of angst, Brian/Justin; I'm a terrible prompt-giver, so... "an unexpected gift"
NOTE: I hopexheartrockx enjoys this little fic. It didn’t really turn out very fluffy, but there is a gift (kind of) and it is sort of unexpected, so Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!! This is mostly from Justin’s POV and takes place 5 and 10 years post-513.
SUMMARY: Justin finds himself outside a very familiar address on Christmas Eve 2010. Will he find what he’s finally decided he wants inside?
Another Chance at Heaven
Turnin’ back the hands of time
Holdin’ on to misty memories
Chasin’ shadows thru the night
Tryin’ to find that happy ending
Reaching out for another chance at heaven
We can still find the way if we try
~~Mystery by Manhattan Transfer~~
Christmas Eve 2010
Justin took a last pull on his cigarette before flicking it onto a mound of newly fallen snow. His breath puffed out in a frosty cloud as he turned to face the familiar, yet somehow strangely foreign building at the corner of Fuller and Tremont. He had a crowd of memories that centered on this address, and it felt like they had all decided to try to flood his brain at once.
He had spent some of his happiest days and nights on the top floor loft here, but there were also quite a few less than stellar times that reminded him of the ashes melting into that pile of snow, turning it from that pristine whiteness into something stained.
Rubbing a gloved hand across his forehead, he found himself thinking longingly of the spiked eggnog Deb had tried to ply him with a few minutes ago across town, doing her best to convince him that celebrating Christmas in her cramped yet festive house would be a much better choice than facing the lion in his den.
Justin had laughed at her description of Brian, knowing how prone to exaggeration his second mother tended to be; but glancing around at the faces of Ted, Emmett, and even Michael, noticing how they all avoided making eye contact with him, had begun to make him feel uneasy.
He had come back to Pittsburgh this time ready to fight for something he’d only recently realized he was in danger of losing because he’d let himself become complacent and distracted by things that didn’t really matter in the long run.
Ever since Justin had left for New York five years ago, he and Brian had always kept in touch. At first meeting up occasionally, their schedules permitting, maintaining a relationship that went through good times and bad, just as it had from the beginning, but never really losing touch with each other for more than a few months.
Sometimes they seemed to start up exactly where they had left off, as though it would only be a matter of time before one of them decided to push a little harder, forcing the issues they had never really resolved after calling off their engagement, issues that had left those metaphorical doors and windows perpetually unlocked—in the background, but never really confronted.
Other times, it seemed to Justin that they had drifted too far apart to ever really find their way back to that place where a happy ending might finally find them after all.
When Justin had moved to California two years ago, he knew that Brian would take it badly. Not that the ever self-confident Mr. Kinney would ever admit to having doubts about their relationship’s chance of survival with an entire country between them. Hell, Justin had been tossed off Mt. Kinney enough times to anticipate almost anything Brian could think to throw at him.
Except, Brian didn’t close himself off, or do something despicable in an attempt to save Justin from a wasted life with a damaged man like himself. Instead, he’d bragged to everyone they knew, and many strangers, that Justin was the next great thing to hit Hollywood. The Rage movies were going to set box office records that would never be broken. He’d arranged to fly out to the West Coast several times a year, always seeming to have a good time whether they were in one of their honeymoon phases or not.
It confused Justin at first, but then he accepted that even a man like Brian Kinney could change his ways without becoming a Stepford fag, and waiting for the other shoe to drop, finally seemed to only encourage fate to fuck with them. So Justin didn’t push anymore, letting himself get buried in his own perfectionist tendencies as his workload picked up, and the first movie was a blockbuster just like Brian had predicted.
And life went on.
Until one day late last summer, when Justin finally had time to take a breath; he realized that he hadn’t spoken to Brian directly since early Spring, when they had made plans to get together in April, right before the storyboards for the Rage sequel were due. But then, the budget had gotten tied up in Hollywood red tape, and half of Justin’s creative staff had gotten restless and threatened to quit, and by the time he escaped from the corporate hell he’d been sucked into, the fucking summer, let alone spring, was just about over.
Brian had called him a few times over the course of the Summer, and Justin had smiled to hear his voice, but although his intentions were good, somehow he hadn’t found the opportunity to return the voicemails left as diligently as he perhaps should have, and when he finally tried to catch up with him, he found Brian to be unavailable and in meetings at all hours of the day and night.
When Brian finally answered one night in October, Justin almost dropped his cell in shock, and had immediately apologized for neglecting Brian and their relationship.
Brian had cut him off by reminding Justin that apologies and regrets were bullshit and being young and beautiful and successful were qualities to be lauded and not lamented. And before Justin could regroup his thoughts and ascertain that a cliff appeared to be looming nearby, Brian had distracted him with a feisty bout of phone sex that had left Justin reeling just long enough to leave the fact he’d been played by the Master a detail left to be discussed in their next conversation.
But after another month of virtual communication blackout disguised as ‘wrapping up one of the highest profile, biggest pain in the ass clients in Kinnetik’s history,’ Justin had decided that confronting Brian in person would be his best bet. Which ultimately led to him standing outside Brian’s building this cold and lonely Christmas Eve, shivering but determined to get what he wanted from his elusive partner.
The irony of his situation didn’t escape Justin for a minute as he was reminded of other times he had stood in almost the same exact spot, yelling up at the loft’s darkened windows in frustration, anger, or desperation; often a combination of all three. Tonight was a little different. Justin placed his hand in his pocket, fingers closing lightly on the envelope he had placed there back in LA. Two tickets to Turks and Caico, leaving on Christmas Day with an open-ended date for returning to Pittsburgh. It was both a touchstone and a testament to their shared history, and Justin could only hope that Brian would recognize that while they may not need rings to prove their love, they did need more than a vague, unspoken commitment to each other. Justin had had nothing but time to come to that realization for the past two months, and now it was time for him to come home to Brian. The rest they would figure out together. After all, it really was only time.
He reached out and pushed the intercom button.
Christmas Eve 2015
Justin took a last pull on his cigarette before flicking it into the ash receptacle outside of the arrivals terminal at LAX. It was seventy degrees and sunny and after almost ten years of living in California he still missed the shitty Pittsburgh winters sometimes; usually during the Christmas Holidays, and usually only briefly, but a lack of seasons was highly overrated in his definitely biased Northeastern born-and-bred opinion.
He straightened up in anticipation as a familiar tall figure broke away from the crowd that was heading his way. Wool coat slung over his arm, Armani luggage wheeling obediently behind him, Brian smiled at him slowly, and Justin stepped without hesitation into the arms that raised in welcome.
“Do you greet all the weary travelers like this?” Brian asked with a smirk as Justin pressed a hungry kiss to his lips.
“Only the weary traveler that’s coming home to me.” Justin answered, running his fingers lightly through Brian’s hair before pulling him in close again for another kiss. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Kinney.”
Brian’s arms squeezed Justin more tightly for a moment and he closed his eyes briefly as the familiar feel and scent of his husband washed over him. There were still many things he wouldn’t say out loud, or at least there were still many things he wouldn’t say out loud often, but thinking back to a much different Christmas Eve, five years ago in snowy, fucking miserably cold Pittsburgh, Brian didn’t see the harm in answering back. “Merry Christmas, Sunshine.” And he definitely would deny adding a whispered, “I love you.”
xheartrockxFROM:
delvalmomTITLE: Another Chance at Heaven
WORD COUNT: about 1500
GIFT REQUEST: Fic, fluff with a little bit of angst, Brian/Justin; I'm a terrible prompt-giver, so... "an unexpected gift"
NOTE: I hope
xheartrockx enjoys this little fic. It didn’t really turn out very fluffy, but there is a gift (kind of) and it is sort of unexpected, so Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!! This is mostly from Justin’s POV and takes place 5 and 10 years post-513. SUMMARY: Justin finds himself outside a very familiar address on Christmas Eve 2010. Will he find what he’s finally decided he wants inside?
Another Chance at Heaven
Turnin’ back the hands of time
Holdin’ on to misty memories
Chasin’ shadows thru the night
Tryin’ to find that happy ending
Reaching out for another chance at heaven
We can still find the way if we try
~~Mystery by Manhattan Transfer~~
Christmas Eve 2010
Justin took a last pull on his cigarette before flicking it onto a mound of newly fallen snow. His breath puffed out in a frosty cloud as he turned to face the familiar, yet somehow strangely foreign building at the corner of Fuller and Tremont. He had a crowd of memories that centered on this address, and it felt like they had all decided to try to flood his brain at once.
He had spent some of his happiest days and nights on the top floor loft here, but there were also quite a few less than stellar times that reminded him of the ashes melting into that pile of snow, turning it from that pristine whiteness into something stained.
Rubbing a gloved hand across his forehead, he found himself thinking longingly of the spiked eggnog Deb had tried to ply him with a few minutes ago across town, doing her best to convince him that celebrating Christmas in her cramped yet festive house would be a much better choice than facing the lion in his den.
Justin had laughed at her description of Brian, knowing how prone to exaggeration his second mother tended to be; but glancing around at the faces of Ted, Emmett, and even Michael, noticing how they all avoided making eye contact with him, had begun to make him feel uneasy.
He had come back to Pittsburgh this time ready to fight for something he’d only recently realized he was in danger of losing because he’d let himself become complacent and distracted by things that didn’t really matter in the long run.
Ever since Justin had left for New York five years ago, he and Brian had always kept in touch. At first meeting up occasionally, their schedules permitting, maintaining a relationship that went through good times and bad, just as it had from the beginning, but never really losing touch with each other for more than a few months.
Sometimes they seemed to start up exactly where they had left off, as though it would only be a matter of time before one of them decided to push a little harder, forcing the issues they had never really resolved after calling off their engagement, issues that had left those metaphorical doors and windows perpetually unlocked—in the background, but never really confronted.
Other times, it seemed to Justin that they had drifted too far apart to ever really find their way back to that place where a happy ending might finally find them after all.
When Justin had moved to California two years ago, he knew that Brian would take it badly. Not that the ever self-confident Mr. Kinney would ever admit to having doubts about their relationship’s chance of survival with an entire country between them. Hell, Justin had been tossed off Mt. Kinney enough times to anticipate almost anything Brian could think to throw at him.
Except, Brian didn’t close himself off, or do something despicable in an attempt to save Justin from a wasted life with a damaged man like himself. Instead, he’d bragged to everyone they knew, and many strangers, that Justin was the next great thing to hit Hollywood. The Rage movies were going to set box office records that would never be broken. He’d arranged to fly out to the West Coast several times a year, always seeming to have a good time whether they were in one of their honeymoon phases or not.
It confused Justin at first, but then he accepted that even a man like Brian Kinney could change his ways without becoming a Stepford fag, and waiting for the other shoe to drop, finally seemed to only encourage fate to fuck with them. So Justin didn’t push anymore, letting himself get buried in his own perfectionist tendencies as his workload picked up, and the first movie was a blockbuster just like Brian had predicted.
And life went on.
Until one day late last summer, when Justin finally had time to take a breath; he realized that he hadn’t spoken to Brian directly since early Spring, when they had made plans to get together in April, right before the storyboards for the Rage sequel were due. But then, the budget had gotten tied up in Hollywood red tape, and half of Justin’s creative staff had gotten restless and threatened to quit, and by the time he escaped from the corporate hell he’d been sucked into, the fucking summer, let alone spring, was just about over.
Brian had called him a few times over the course of the Summer, and Justin had smiled to hear his voice, but although his intentions were good, somehow he hadn’t found the opportunity to return the voicemails left as diligently as he perhaps should have, and when he finally tried to catch up with him, he found Brian to be unavailable and in meetings at all hours of the day and night.
When Brian finally answered one night in October, Justin almost dropped his cell in shock, and had immediately apologized for neglecting Brian and their relationship.
Brian had cut him off by reminding Justin that apologies and regrets were bullshit and being young and beautiful and successful were qualities to be lauded and not lamented. And before Justin could regroup his thoughts and ascertain that a cliff appeared to be looming nearby, Brian had distracted him with a feisty bout of phone sex that had left Justin reeling just long enough to leave the fact he’d been played by the Master a detail left to be discussed in their next conversation.
But after another month of virtual communication blackout disguised as ‘wrapping up one of the highest profile, biggest pain in the ass clients in Kinnetik’s history,’ Justin had decided that confronting Brian in person would be his best bet. Which ultimately led to him standing outside Brian’s building this cold and lonely Christmas Eve, shivering but determined to get what he wanted from his elusive partner.
The irony of his situation didn’t escape Justin for a minute as he was reminded of other times he had stood in almost the same exact spot, yelling up at the loft’s darkened windows in frustration, anger, or desperation; often a combination of all three. Tonight was a little different. Justin placed his hand in his pocket, fingers closing lightly on the envelope he had placed there back in LA. Two tickets to Turks and Caico, leaving on Christmas Day with an open-ended date for returning to Pittsburgh. It was both a touchstone and a testament to their shared history, and Justin could only hope that Brian would recognize that while they may not need rings to prove their love, they did need more than a vague, unspoken commitment to each other. Justin had had nothing but time to come to that realization for the past two months, and now it was time for him to come home to Brian. The rest they would figure out together. After all, it really was only time.
He reached out and pushed the intercom button.
Christmas Eve 2015
Justin took a last pull on his cigarette before flicking it into the ash receptacle outside of the arrivals terminal at LAX. It was seventy degrees and sunny and after almost ten years of living in California he still missed the shitty Pittsburgh winters sometimes; usually during the Christmas Holidays, and usually only briefly, but a lack of seasons was highly overrated in his definitely biased Northeastern born-and-bred opinion.
He straightened up in anticipation as a familiar tall figure broke away from the crowd that was heading his way. Wool coat slung over his arm, Armani luggage wheeling obediently behind him, Brian smiled at him slowly, and Justin stepped without hesitation into the arms that raised in welcome.
“Do you greet all the weary travelers like this?” Brian asked with a smirk as Justin pressed a hungry kiss to his lips.
“Only the weary traveler that’s coming home to me.” Justin answered, running his fingers lightly through Brian’s hair before pulling him in close again for another kiss. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Kinney.”
Brian’s arms squeezed Justin more tightly for a moment and he closed his eyes briefly as the familiar feel and scent of his husband washed over him. There were still many things he wouldn’t say out loud, or at least there were still many things he wouldn’t say out loud often, but thinking back to a much different Christmas Eve, five years ago in snowy, fucking miserably cold Pittsburgh, Brian didn’t see the harm in answering back. “Merry Christmas, Sunshine.” And he definitely would deny adding a whispered, “I love you.”
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