Gift #10 - 2 of 2
Jan. 1st, 2020 02:04 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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qaf_giftxchngeContinued from HERE
***
“Do you think you want dinner soon?” Justin asked, stifling a yawn that followed shortly after.
They’d spent the better part of the late morning and afternoon in bed, Justin first fulfilling Brian’s request, followed by watching a mindless movie together, and then making love again, this time with Brian taking control in what Justin imagined was more a necessary act of symbolism than desire -- but he certainly wasn’t about to complain. Afterward, both completely satiated, they’d fallen asleep, waking up as dusk settled over their room and the city lights started to come alive outside their windows.
“I guess I should eat,” Brian admitted, his stomach growling to emphasize the accuracy of his statement.
Justin smiled, patting the duvet where it covered Brian’s abdomen. “I could cook. I have the stuff I got for the other night. Or we could order takeout. Your choice.”
“As much as I’m going to regret this later, especially since whatever you were planning to make is undoubtedly a lot healthier… I could go for pizza.”
“Done!” Justin said quickly, realizing a golden opportunity when he saw one. Brian almost never requested pizza, despite that he’d often end up eating some (and then complaining about weight gain) anytime Justin brought it home, so the fact that he was actually initiating was a Big Deal. Apparently even the likes of Brian Kinney were not entirely immune to comfort food.
After Justin placed their order from his favorite nearby pizzeria, they got dressed and moved back to the living room, settling side-by-side on the couch. Brian turned on the television and flipped channels until they agreed on a repeat episode from the “Will & Grace” reboot.
The episode where Beverly Leslie revealed to Karen that that he was gay (“No fucking shit,” Brian had remarked, snorting), was close to finishing when they got the call that their pizza had arrived, so Justin went downstairs to retrieve the food. He came back up to the penthouse, arms laden with pizza and a large salad (perhaps Brian was seeking a form of consolation, but he also hadn’t completely lost his mind) to find that his husband’s mood had sombered considerably from when he’d left.
“What happened?” Justin asked, not beating around the bush as he set their dinner on the island and walked back over to the couch.
Brian shrugged and pointed at the TV, now onto the next episode of “Will & Grace” -- one that featured an unanticipated death of a much-loved character. They’d seen all the episodes in real-time, but the timing of that particular rerun was less than ideal, given the circumstances.
“Change the channel,” Justin suggested, keeping his tone light. “Or turn it off. Come eat.”
Fortunately, Brian nodded and flicked off the TV, joining Justin at the kitchen counter. They had their pizza and salad with beer, eating mostly in silence until Justin noticed that Brian was playing with more than consuming his food. When Brian realized that Justin was watching him, he sighed.
“It’s all fucking weird,” he said, pushing his plate away.
“What is?” Justin asked, deciding he was done as well. He stood up, beginning to clear their plates as Brian contemplated his response.
“Death. My mother. Being more open with you about it,” he smiled ruefully at the last admission, and then gratefully accepted the fresh beer Justin handed him, and they moved back over to the couch, Justin deciding their minimal dishes could wait.
“I’m glad you’re being open,” Justin replied. “I know it sucks for you, but it’s so much easier than my having to guess what you’re thinking or feeling, or going to do next, at every turn. You always try to push me away, but it never works.”
“I always try to make it up to you though,” Brian reasoned. “You know this shit isn’t easy for me.”
“Getting pushed off a proverbial cliff every time you need some space, rather than just saying, ‘Hey Justin, I need some space,’ isn’t ‘easy’ for me,” Justin countered, raising an eyebrow challengingly, though there was no true malice in his voice.
“Do I really do it that often?” Brian asked, though it was impossible for him to not know the answer, considering his well-known penchant for that very thing.
Justin smirked, nudging Brian with his knee. “Let’s see. I won’t even bother going all the way back to the beginning, so let’s start with my trying to move back to Pittsburgh, then the time you got freaked out about monogamy before our trip to Ibiza, or when you opened the New York branch of Kinnetik and were afraid to talk to me about relocating again, also when Michael had the health scare two years ago, then there was the whole thing with Gus not--”
“Okay, I get it,” Brian said, his tone dragged out for emphasis. “But you neglect to mention that each of those times, I more than substantially redeemed myself for any indiscretions.”
“Brian,” Justin began, then quirked his mouth to the side in a contemplative expression, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. “It’s not about you always doing something to make it up to me after the fact. That’s not what I’m looking for.”
“I rearranged our entire trip to Ibiza so I could marry you on a private beach in Mallorca, at sunset,” Brian argued. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t something that more than made up for my ‘freak out’ before we left.”
Justin shook his head, though he was unable to stop the reminiscent smile that entered his face as he remembered their wedding, the “side trip” to Mallorca a total surprise, followed by a ridiculously romantic honeymoon spent eating and fucking their way through the Canary Islands. It turned out that Brian had done all of this with Jennifer’s blessing, once he’d come to his senses and realized that Justin truly was the only one for him, once and for all. And he hadn’t changed his mind about it in the nearly fifteen years since.
But still.
“I’m just asking that we communicate better, that’s all,” Justin said, trying a different approach. “I don’t need you to tell me everything all the time. Or even most of the time. I just need you to not shut me out completely. Especially in the times when you probably need me most.”
Brian was quiet for several seconds, digesting Justin’s words, before admitting, “I don’t know how to deal with feelings I can’t shut out.”
Justin nodded, having long-before identified it as one of Brian’s major challenges. “I know. But pushing me away isn’t going to make that easier. I made a vow to stand beside you through everything. So I’m not running. Because at the end of the day, everything we are is so much bigger than this. I just wish you could see it too. I mean, you don’t run from me when I’m going through something difficult. You’re always right there.”
“Always,” Brian echoed. “But you’re so much stronger--” he started to say, but Justin cut him off.
“I’m strong because of you. Everything we get through together is what makes us stronger. Every storm, no matter how big or small.”
Brian bit his lip, appearing to need a moment to collect himself before speaking. “You’re so fucking sappy.”
Justin smirked, recognizing the comment for what it was, then repeated, “I mean it. I’m not running, and I never have, so quit thinking I’m suddenly going to give in and start.”
He received a nod in response, followed by a soft, “Thank you.” They sat in silence for a few minutes before Brian spoke again, seeming to want to continue their conversation from earlier. “I did want to tell you more of what I was thinking… feeling… whatever.”
“I kind of derailed that, sorry,” Justin admitted. “You said it’s weird thinking about death and everything with your mom.”
Brian nodded. “It’s like any call could be that call now. Though, knowing my lovely sister, she’ll probably just have the funeral director leave me a voicemail or something -- an address for where to send the check.”
Justin rolled his eyes. He hoped not, but knowing Claire, it certainly didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility either. He looked back at Brian, growing serious again. “When you get the call, if we’re not physically together, will you let me know?”
Brian let out a long breath, but he nodded again. “I will as soon as I hear anything.”
“And,” Justin continued, “promise that you’ll try to let me be there for you through whatever comes after -- however you need me to be.”
“I’ll do my best.”
They fell back into comfortable silence, opting for a drama-free movie to finish off their evening, eventually dozing off together on the couch before finally getting up and moving back to their bed.
As they settled down to sleep for the final time that day, Justin caught Brian looking at him in the darkness.
“What?” he asked, laughing softly.
“It might get worse,” Brian whispered. “I might get worse before this is over.”
“You might,” Justin agreed. Death was complicated, especially when it involved a relationship as complex as Brian’s with Joan. Despite the depth of Brian’s initial reaction, there were still many layers of grief to unpack.
“Are you sure?” Brian asked, his question seeming incomplete, but Justin heard what was left unsaid. Are you sure you want to deal with me? Are you sure you want to handle this? Are you sure you don’t think you’d want someone better?
“Of course I am.”
The next question came out even more hesitantly. “Why?”
But Justin’s response came with no reservations whatsoever, to the tune of the mantra he had lived and breathed for the past nearly twenty years.
“Because you’re worth every second of it.”
***
“Do you think you want dinner soon?” Justin asked, stifling a yawn that followed shortly after.
They’d spent the better part of the late morning and afternoon in bed, Justin first fulfilling Brian’s request, followed by watching a mindless movie together, and then making love again, this time with Brian taking control in what Justin imagined was more a necessary act of symbolism than desire -- but he certainly wasn’t about to complain. Afterward, both completely satiated, they’d fallen asleep, waking up as dusk settled over their room and the city lights started to come alive outside their windows.
“I guess I should eat,” Brian admitted, his stomach growling to emphasize the accuracy of his statement.
Justin smiled, patting the duvet where it covered Brian’s abdomen. “I could cook. I have the stuff I got for the other night. Or we could order takeout. Your choice.”
“As much as I’m going to regret this later, especially since whatever you were planning to make is undoubtedly a lot healthier… I could go for pizza.”
“Done!” Justin said quickly, realizing a golden opportunity when he saw one. Brian almost never requested pizza, despite that he’d often end up eating some (and then complaining about weight gain) anytime Justin brought it home, so the fact that he was actually initiating was a Big Deal. Apparently even the likes of Brian Kinney were not entirely immune to comfort food.
After Justin placed their order from his favorite nearby pizzeria, they got dressed and moved back to the living room, settling side-by-side on the couch. Brian turned on the television and flipped channels until they agreed on a repeat episode from the “Will & Grace” reboot.
The episode where Beverly Leslie revealed to Karen that that he was gay (“No fucking shit,” Brian had remarked, snorting), was close to finishing when they got the call that their pizza had arrived, so Justin went downstairs to retrieve the food. He came back up to the penthouse, arms laden with pizza and a large salad (perhaps Brian was seeking a form of consolation, but he also hadn’t completely lost his mind) to find that his husband’s mood had sombered considerably from when he’d left.
“What happened?” Justin asked, not beating around the bush as he set their dinner on the island and walked back over to the couch.
Brian shrugged and pointed at the TV, now onto the next episode of “Will & Grace” -- one that featured an unanticipated death of a much-loved character. They’d seen all the episodes in real-time, but the timing of that particular rerun was less than ideal, given the circumstances.
“Change the channel,” Justin suggested, keeping his tone light. “Or turn it off. Come eat.”
Fortunately, Brian nodded and flicked off the TV, joining Justin at the kitchen counter. They had their pizza and salad with beer, eating mostly in silence until Justin noticed that Brian was playing with more than consuming his food. When Brian realized that Justin was watching him, he sighed.
“It’s all fucking weird,” he said, pushing his plate away.
“What is?” Justin asked, deciding he was done as well. He stood up, beginning to clear their plates as Brian contemplated his response.
“Death. My mother. Being more open with you about it,” he smiled ruefully at the last admission, and then gratefully accepted the fresh beer Justin handed him, and they moved back over to the couch, Justin deciding their minimal dishes could wait.
“I’m glad you’re being open,” Justin replied. “I know it sucks for you, but it’s so much easier than my having to guess what you’re thinking or feeling, or going to do next, at every turn. You always try to push me away, but it never works.”
“I always try to make it up to you though,” Brian reasoned. “You know this shit isn’t easy for me.”
“Getting pushed off a proverbial cliff every time you need some space, rather than just saying, ‘Hey Justin, I need some space,’ isn’t ‘easy’ for me,” Justin countered, raising an eyebrow challengingly, though there was no true malice in his voice.
“Do I really do it that often?” Brian asked, though it was impossible for him to not know the answer, considering his well-known penchant for that very thing.
Justin smirked, nudging Brian with his knee. “Let’s see. I won’t even bother going all the way back to the beginning, so let’s start with my trying to move back to Pittsburgh, then the time you got freaked out about monogamy before our trip to Ibiza, or when you opened the New York branch of Kinnetik and were afraid to talk to me about relocating again, also when Michael had the health scare two years ago, then there was the whole thing with Gus not--”
“Okay, I get it,” Brian said, his tone dragged out for emphasis. “But you neglect to mention that each of those times, I more than substantially redeemed myself for any indiscretions.”
“Brian,” Justin began, then quirked his mouth to the side in a contemplative expression, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. “It’s not about you always doing something to make it up to me after the fact. That’s not what I’m looking for.”
“I rearranged our entire trip to Ibiza so I could marry you on a private beach in Mallorca, at sunset,” Brian argued. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t something that more than made up for my ‘freak out’ before we left.”
Justin shook his head, though he was unable to stop the reminiscent smile that entered his face as he remembered their wedding, the “side trip” to Mallorca a total surprise, followed by a ridiculously romantic honeymoon spent eating and fucking their way through the Canary Islands. It turned out that Brian had done all of this with Jennifer’s blessing, once he’d come to his senses and realized that Justin truly was the only one for him, once and for all. And he hadn’t changed his mind about it in the nearly fifteen years since.
But still.
“I’m just asking that we communicate better, that’s all,” Justin said, trying a different approach. “I don’t need you to tell me everything all the time. Or even most of the time. I just need you to not shut me out completely. Especially in the times when you probably need me most.”
Brian was quiet for several seconds, digesting Justin’s words, before admitting, “I don’t know how to deal with feelings I can’t shut out.”
Justin nodded, having long-before identified it as one of Brian’s major challenges. “I know. But pushing me away isn’t going to make that easier. I made a vow to stand beside you through everything. So I’m not running. Because at the end of the day, everything we are is so much bigger than this. I just wish you could see it too. I mean, you don’t run from me when I’m going through something difficult. You’re always right there.”
“Always,” Brian echoed. “But you’re so much stronger--” he started to say, but Justin cut him off.
“I’m strong because of you. Everything we get through together is what makes us stronger. Every storm, no matter how big or small.”
Brian bit his lip, appearing to need a moment to collect himself before speaking. “You’re so fucking sappy.”
Justin smirked, recognizing the comment for what it was, then repeated, “I mean it. I’m not running, and I never have, so quit thinking I’m suddenly going to give in and start.”
He received a nod in response, followed by a soft, “Thank you.” They sat in silence for a few minutes before Brian spoke again, seeming to want to continue their conversation from earlier. “I did want to tell you more of what I was thinking… feeling… whatever.”
“I kind of derailed that, sorry,” Justin admitted. “You said it’s weird thinking about death and everything with your mom.”
Brian nodded. “It’s like any call could be that call now. Though, knowing my lovely sister, she’ll probably just have the funeral director leave me a voicemail or something -- an address for where to send the check.”
Justin rolled his eyes. He hoped not, but knowing Claire, it certainly didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility either. He looked back at Brian, growing serious again. “When you get the call, if we’re not physically together, will you let me know?”
Brian let out a long breath, but he nodded again. “I will as soon as I hear anything.”
“And,” Justin continued, “promise that you’ll try to let me be there for you through whatever comes after -- however you need me to be.”
“I’ll do my best.”
They fell back into comfortable silence, opting for a drama-free movie to finish off their evening, eventually dozing off together on the couch before finally getting up and moving back to their bed.
As they settled down to sleep for the final time that day, Justin caught Brian looking at him in the darkness.
“What?” he asked, laughing softly.
“It might get worse,” Brian whispered. “I might get worse before this is over.”
“You might,” Justin agreed. Death was complicated, especially when it involved a relationship as complex as Brian’s with Joan. Despite the depth of Brian’s initial reaction, there were still many layers of grief to unpack.
“Are you sure?” Brian asked, his question seeming incomplete, but Justin heard what was left unsaid. Are you sure you want to deal with me? Are you sure you want to handle this? Are you sure you don’t think you’d want someone better?
“Of course I am.”
The next question came out even more hesitantly. “Why?”
But Justin’s response came with no reservations whatsoever, to the tune of the mantra he had lived and breathed for the past nearly twenty years.
“Because you’re worth every second of it.”
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