A/N: There – the end. It’s good to, after several attempts, finally finish one of the stories I started writing so confidently. I might have lost readers over the time, thanks to lack of updates and thanks to screwing Brian and Justin over and making them fall apart beyond repair, but I struggled to fix them, and in the end, I did. I have no idea how believable the ending is – I know however that my timeline is probably completely off. But as CowLip took their artistic freedom, I take mine and present you with what I consider the end of Faintest Spark. ____________________________ Faintest Spark, VII
Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. -Isaiah 43-
Justin returns to New York on a stormy day. Rain keeps pouring down from heaven while wind keeps tossing the drops into all directions – and it’s quite how Justin feels: Confused. Just as unexpectedly as he had called his mother on the day of his arrival, he calls her when he needs to go back to the airport. Jennifer does not try to talk him out of it. She knows Justin would never leave if he didn’t have definite reasons, even if she can’t quite figure out what they are. Everything has come back to him except for his feelings for Kevin, which is why he doesn’t even bother to let Kevin know about his return to New York. He spends time with friends he hasn’t seen since going to Pittsburgh and works on the commission projects he scored during his latest show. Jennifer and Molly visit him twice in the two months to follow but not once he hears from Brian. And why would Brian even want to contact him? After all, Justin ran off, though he isn’t entirely sure why. For two years, Justin had been trying to tell himself that it was Brian who ultimately broke them up by taking Giuseppe home to Justin’s place, to their bed – which hadn’t been theirs entirely ever since Justin had allowed Kevin to spend the night. But admittedly, Brian had only been the final straw. It was Justin himself who had started it, breaking ancient rules that they’d wordlessly kept to even after all those years. He was confused, yet Justin was finally able to think clear – and it had only taking him another good knock to his head to realize why the last years had gone wrong. *** Brian pretends that it doesn’t matter Justin left once more. But it’s obvious that it affects him severely because he works on accounts like a madman. It’s one morning after a meeting with Brown Athletics that the man himself, Leo Brown, shakes Brian’s hand gratefully and praises Kinnetik’s excellent work. “Just like that piece of art on your wall, Brian.” Brown points out Justin’s painting which has become so familiar to Brian that he doesn’t think of it as disturbing as he used to. “Who’s the artist?” “My, Leo,” Brian laughs, “you’re interested in the arts? Someone I know painted it. Justin Taylor.” Leo Brown nods, and then looks at Brian curiously. “Isn’t he-?” “Was.” Brian comments dryly and then sees Brown off at the door. Later, he sits in his office alone for a long time, glancing to the canvas again and again. Justin never told him the title of the painting. Brian had to find out through yet another newspaper article. JT’s Rescue. *** Two and a half months after – what he thing is his final – departure from Pittsburgh, someone sends Justin a flat, padded, rectangular parcel which, he assumes, contains a framed painting. He wonders who could possibly be the sender and sighs when he sees the Pittsburgh stamp on it. Sure, it could be any member of the family but there’s only Brian who has the slightest bit of taste in art. He unwraps it hastily, and is surprised to find a print of his own, recent artwork, the one Brian bought, inside. There’s the smallest of notes attached to the frame. Is that what you want, JT? *** Justin doesn’t contact Brian about it though. Yes, yes, he wants to scream, it is what I want more than anything. But he fears that both of them will only end up hurt again as long as he hasn’t mulled everything over. He knows that if Brian wants him, really wants him, he’ll come after him. At least that is what Justin hopes Brian will do. And why wouldn’t he? Brian figured out the meaning behind the painting all on his own. When he painted ‘JT’s rescue’, Justin had felt overwhelmed by Kevin’s presence. Suddenly, someone imposed on his life in a way Justin wasn’t familiar with. Kevin made decisions for Justin, appointments, paraded him around on his arm but never bothered whether Justin wanted their relationship to go that way. Justin had once thought that Brian was a difficult case but Kevin was far more complicated. During the creation of the painting, Justin had realized, far too late, that he needed to go back to Brian in order to be himself. It’s a week later that Justin receives a call, just after six in the evening, from his agent Schulze who tells him that there’d be a last minute meeting for dinner with a new client. Justin almost protests but he will need to pick up more commission works soon anyway, so he agrees. Schulze sends him to a fancy new restaurant in Manhattan and Justin hopes the client will pay. He hates those appointments with a passion because people try to woo him and in the end, make a move on him, male and female clients alike. He always turns them down and ends up with another evening’s time wasted when he could have been painting. When he gets out of the car, Justin braces himself for whoever is waiting for him inside but his wall of toughness crumbles when the headwaiter leads him to his table. Justin doesn’t have to see the ‘new client’s’ face in order to recognize Brian. He can tell from the posture alone that it is Brian – after all, he’s probably painted Brian a million times. Whether there’ll ever be a day when Brian’s presence won’t affect him, make his knees go weak and his resolve collapse, he doesn’t know but he takes a tentative guess at ‘never’. “Mr Kinney, Justin Taylor.” The waiter says, not knowing introducing the two is completely unnecessary. Brian nods at the waiter though and asks for a refill of his drink. “Mr Taylor will have the same.” Justin doesn’t dispute, he needs a drink right alright. When Justin finally sits down, Brian looks at him for the first time. “Mr Kinney,” Justin says and doesn’t smile or smirk. He is dead serious about handling this in a business manner. “My agent said you needed my help in a pressing matter.” “I – Justin. Did you receive my message the other day?” “I did get your present, Mr Kinney, yes.” “So?” “So?” Justin parrots. “Is that all this meeting is about? Because, Mr KinneyI’m not here to discuss personal matters.” Justin knocks back the drink and makes a move to get up. Brian catches his wrist and pulls him back. “Kinnetik is moving to New York. We’re branching out, Cynthia and me. I need a new head for the art department. As I only work with the best, I couldn’t think of any other than the ‘outstandingly talented’ graphic artist Justin Taylor. I know I can trust you not to fuck up, you’ve got a degree and visions.” Justin’s fingers itch to reach for Brian’s drink and down that one too. Now, all that’s news to Justin. “But – how?” “We cut short on our expenses, saved some money. The office building here is run down and needs renovation but the interiors okay.” Justin nods, soaking it all up. He studies Brian’s face, replays the words in his head. Of course Brian wants him, in more ways than one. He’s always wanted Justin, just as Justin will always want Brian. Still, he says, “I can’t.” It’s that simple. “You can’t or you won’t?” Brian asks just to make sure. “I can’t.” Justin says again. “I really can’t.” There’s a long silence in which Brian leans closer, examining Justin’s face. “How much?” He finally asks. Justin sighs. He doesn’t want Brian to know just how stupid he was to sign a freelance contract with Kevin’s company. Justin was so angry at the time that he didn’t care for the conditions. “Four million if I break the contract and two million to buy me out.” Brian snorts and shakes his head. “He thought he was very clever, didn’t he?” Justin shrugs in reply. “How will you be able to afford buying me out of it and paying for the office space?” “Justin, if we sign the account I want you to work on, we’ll gain four times as much,” Brian explains calmly, “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Amongst others.” Justin feels oddly reminded of a time when he sat in Brian’s office, demanding for him to take him back, in business and private life. Brian is practically begging him to return – even buy him if he must. Justin snorts at the thought. Justin doesn’t reply straight away. He studies his menu in silence. He doesn’t feel hungry, in fact he just wants to get away. Both choose a small dish eventually, a light one. Justin isn’t surprised. No carbs after seven for Brian. When Justin finally speaks, it’s not what Brian expected. “How’s Gus?” Actually, Justin knows Gus is okay, they just talked in the morning but it is a distraction from the actual matter and many more questions he wants to ask. He brings up the matter of Gus’ birthday as well without realizing that the birthday is so much more to them. Brian tells him that he plans on going up there and take Gus to the newly opened amusement park his son keeps raving about. “I’ll bring him to New York for the weekend after that.” Justin nods. “I’d like to see him then.” Brian shrugs and Justin thinks he might hear Brian mumble something about ‘Why don’t you come with me?’ into the next bite of his tuna steak. “Why should I?” Justin answer, hoping it wasn’t just wishful thinking on his part. “My son thinks I’m no fun without you. Besides, you don’t think I’ll go on all those rides with him, do you? He’ll need someone to go with him.” Justin smiles. That is why he loves Brian: He puts other people above himself, puts his son over their impaired communication or lack there of because he’s as much of a loving father as he is a partner. Justin’s feelings for Brian drown out the voice of reason inside him which is screaming at the top of its lung in warning. He should probably say no, tell Brian that they’ll have to take it slow but why should he? He walked out on Brian, again, and Brian’s giving him an easy out and chasing after him. He should ask for rules about touching, kissing, fucking and there should be none of the above but in truth, he wants all those things. And he still wants them half an hour later when they stand outside the restaurant on the curb. “Where are you headed?” Justin asks, biting his lip at Brian’s reply of ‘no place special’. Justin didn’t mean for it to come out that way but it doesn’t matter because Brian smiles at him in an amused way. “Will you change that, Justin?” Justin ‘s hand slips in Brian’s as Justin steps closer. “In due course.” Maybe it’s the fresh start they’ve been waiting for. *** The next day, Justin is on the phone to Daphne who keeps tossing one question at him again and again. “Why didn’t you make up?” Justin sighs. “But… we did.” “No, did not. Else he’d have taken you home and fuc- you’d still be fucking now.” “It’s – different this time. We can’t rush it. I won’t let us rush it. Not until Brian figured out what he wants.” Daphne snorts. “Justin, you know I love you but: You can be incredibly stupid. He figured out long ago what he wants, which is you. You, on the other hand – I think it is you who doesn’t know.” Justin pipes up to protest but Daphne is right. He wants Brian, sure. But he’s just not sure whether the terms and conditions Brian is willing to go by this time will merge with his. Yet, he will have to figure out what those are for himself. “Maybe you’re right.” He’s just ended the phone call to Daphne when his cell phone starts ringing anew. It is Brian on the other end, his voice sounding sleepy when he asks Justin to show up at an address just on the border to Manhattan. Surrounded by the sleek skyscrapers with their steel-and-glass-fronts lies hidden a small, abandoned nightclub that once must have pulsated with life. When Justin walks up to the entrance, he finds himself quite irritated – the door is still nailed shut, no way of getting into the building. “Justin!” he hears a voice call for him, female, familiar and when he looks up, he sees Cynthia standing on the third floor landing of the fire escape, motioning for him to get up there. “Brian told me to get you inside.” That Brian would choose a former club to be turned into the new office space for Kinnetik doesn’t surprise Justin at all. Cynthia takes him down a hallway, undoubtedly the upper floors of the building used to be apartments, and they pass room after room in which people are painting the walls, installing lamps or arranging furniture. “When did he start planning the big move?” Justin asks. Cynthia shrugs. “Pretty much right after you left, the last time.” She smiled at Justin, because she knows what it means for Justin, for Brian, for their future. Brian had thrown caution to the wind and decided to chase after Justin, even if it appeared to have taken him quite a long time. Eventually, they arrive in a hallway where someone set up boards and plans of the building. Brian stands right in front of them, arms crossed in front of his chest and looking as if deep in thought. “Boss?” Cynthia asks and touches Brian’s shoulder. She startles him and both Justin and snicker. “Justin’s here.” Brian nods in acknowledgement and pears at Justin curiously. “What are you going to do with that much space? From the looks of it it’s bigger than the one in Pittsburgh.” Justin tells Brian as an answer to the unasked question of what Justin thinks about this place. “I have big plans, Sunshine,” Brian says, tongue in cheek, “let me show you.” Brian takes Justin down to the second floor and tells him: “All of this will be yours to reign over. The art department.” Brian must have had someone tear down a couple of walls because there are only two secluded rooms to one side. “Over there, your office.” Brian says it as if Justin has already agreed to work with him, which, in fact, he hasn’t. Justin mulls over the idea to tell Brian so, but he’s afraid of what kind of reaction that would elicit from Brian. Brian smiles and opens the door. It’s almost completely furnished with a spacious desk, a sofa in one corner and a couple of cupboards and shelves on the other wall. Right behind the door is steep small staircase, leading upstairs and Justin guesses it’s his secret entrance to Brian’s office. He smiles and flunks himself into the huge leather chair. Justin thinks it’s ironic that once again Brian has to go to all his extents to win Justin back. Or maybe, Brian doesn’t even have to win Justin back. He didn’t run from him with the plan to never return – he just ran because he was confused and terrified of the damaged both were capable to cause each other. This time, Justin thinks, Brian’s action is not so much about trying to make Justin happy. Brian is making himself happy but fulfilling his ultimate dream: making it in New York. That Justin is already there is merely a lucky coincidence. Or maybe it’s purely fate. Justin knows that Brian would never agree with him about that but he is sure that Brian must have learnt by now that the two of them are destined to be together. “Computers and other technical devices are supposed to arrive on Monday.” Brian informs Justin and watched how Justin swings around in his chair to look outside the window. It’s not exactly the prettiest of sights, a rundown backstreet, but children are kicking a ball around at the end of the street and Justin wonders what attracted Brian to buy this place. “We offer unique concepts and design at Kinnetik, might as well be located in a unique place.” Brian tells him before leading the way back upstairs. Brian’s office is, of course, the only room that’s already finished. Brian’s laptop is sat up on an even bigger desk than Justin’s and there are already files piling on it to one side. “What about downstairs? The old club. What’s happening to it? Is it going to be the reception area?” Brian shakes his head no. “I have different plans with it, plans that cannot be revealed as of yet.” He smiles secretively at Justin. “Well, well, Brian. I’m impressed with all of it, particularly the art department. It never occurred to you though that I haven’t agreed to work for Kinnetik yet?” Justin puts on a serious face. He’s not going to say no. How could he? It is a great chance and it’s served to him on a silver platter. He once came to New York to make it on his own, and he has. His success has spread far over his expectations. And now Brian has come. The almighty Brian Kinney has come to ask for help. Justin sighs into the prolonged silence. No, it never occurred to Brian that even the best laid plans sometimes don’t work out. Brian doesn’t seem to have anything to say about it. Or maybe he just waits for Justin to justify his reasoning. Justin turns to the window. “There will have to be rules, Brian,” he says slowly, “about not mixing business and private life. You’re the boss here, but by making me head of the art department you give me more power than I had when I was interning under you.” He can’t help but crack a smile at that. Brian nods. “Okay, lay down the rules.” Justin shakes his head. “No, I want to hear how you think this should work.” And so Brian talks. He tells Justin about how he trusts him not to cause damage to the enterprise. He expects Justin to have learned about the advertising world in his former engagement with a competing firm and he tells Mr Taylor he trusts him of being capable to make decisions on his own and take on the responsibility for those. There’ll be no discussions about private matters or arguments. He expects absolutely sincerity and no beating around the bushes. “And you can expect the same from me, Mr Taylor.” Justin smiles. The ambiguity of it all is not lost on him, neither is the distant memory of a reversed situation. Cynthia knocks on the door to come and get Brian whose opinion is needed by one of the construction workers. “Go on upstairs,” Brian tells Justin and hands him a key. Justin had been wondering about where Brian would be living in New York. Seeing as the building is rather rundown from the outside, it might have appeared unattractive to a lot of people and hence, the price for it must have been fairly reasonable. Justin unlocks the door to the rooms upstairs and finds himself in an exquisitely furnished and decorated apartment. Of course Brian would never go for anything less than loft-standards but this is way beyond what Justin expected. He walks around, peering into rooms hesitantly, not knowing just how much Brian will let Justin intrude in his private life. He sighs. No, it’s not Brian who is hesitant. It’s Justin himself. “You want a drink?” Brian’s voice startles him out of his thoughts and he walks back over into the kitchen. “No, thanks. I should be getting over to my studio.” Justin says. Brian nods. He wants Justin to wrap up all his lose ends so he can start fresh at Kinnetik. “I don’t want to give up my apartment.” He can’t stop himself from saying it. Brian puts down his bottle of water onto the sleek countertop. “I never asked you with one word to do so.” “I should though. To pay the contract fee.” Justin muses and adds, “You’re not going to pay for that.” “Where will you live?” Brian tosses into Justin’s pool of thoughts. “Oh,” Justin gasps. It never occurred to him that Brian had never, with one word, said that there were in any kind of relationship. “OH?” Brian asks, amused. He finally smiles at Justin and with one arm pulls him against his body. “It’s all taken care of. Don’t worry your pretty blond head.” Justin wants to revel in the feel and smell of Brian, but he has to say one more thing. “When I said you’d give me more power in my job than I’m used to have while working with you, I hoped you’d understand that I want to have the same power in our relationship. Treat me as an equal, and let me make my own mistakes. I had Kevin smother my opinion. I don’t want that anymore.” Brian’s arm tightens possessively around Justin’s back and the other hand reaches up to cup Justin’s cheek and life his face. He’s about to say something when that huge, happy smiles spreads over Justin’s face and finally, finally reaches his eyes, letting them sparkle with happiness and contentment. It’s been 2 months and 9 days since Brian last devoured Justin’s pink lips. It’s been way too long he thinks and Justin doesn’t protest when Brian decides to do something about it. Brian and Justin don’t spend all their days together, or the nights. There are times when Brian is too exhausted to keep his eyes open and Justin won’t even managed to head to bed downstairs but fall asleep on the sofa in his upstairs studio. They work hard to be able to draw a final line under the past that haunted them for so long, and both realize that if each handles it in their own way, it works out far better. There are nights though, which they spend together. On one of those occasions Justin finally decides to take Brian to his apartment and show him how he lived in New York for all those years. It’s a rather big step to take, Justin thinks, after all, Kevin used to share this place with him. Brian notices the luxurious interior of Justin’s home first. He is sure that in the design, there’s still something of Kevin left but all obvious traces, photos, personal belongings, have gone. Brian wonders what happened to the boy who loved to leave the Pittsburgh loft in utter chaos. “You like it here?” Justin asks. He’s eager to hear Brian’s opinion, his approval. “Not bad,” Brian says and adds in an approving nod, “Bathroom?” “Down the hall,” Justin says and feels a little uneasy. He doesn’t know where his nervousness comes from because Brian is obviously not feeling out of place. To his embarrassment, he discovers that there is no beer in the refrigerator, so the choice falls automatically on white wine, slightly chilled. In the bathroom, Brian almost picks up Justin’s bottle of cologne to sniff on it, clouding him in Justin’s pleasant smell but then he hears Justin potter around in the kitchen and returns to see what the noise is about. “Sorry, I only got wine at hand. No beer.” Justin apologizes and wonders why Brian smiles at him goofily. Brian shrugs and uncorks the bottle to pour them both a glass. “How did you get on with painting?” Justin breaks into a smile and proudly tells him about his progress, how close he’s drawing to finishing his present work and how he discovered a new brand of paint the other day that gives the painting an entirely new visual texture. Brian listens to all of it, nods at the right places and marvels at how worked up Justin becomes about his work. It’s a thing of beauty how he talks with his whole body, runs his hands through his hard and then finishes with “God, Brian, you brought back my inspiration." Brian smirks at how Justin will always be unable to contain his feeling. But he loves it, he loves it and lets it happen and then swoops Justin into his arms and kisses him. “Show me your studio?” Brian thinks of the ratty, ramshakled studio apartment Justin inhabited when he left Brian around the time of the bomb at Babylon. It was ridiculously shabby and nothing of a studio for a talented artist like Justin. Brian’s hand feels along the wall for the light switch, but Justin takes his hand and leads him over to the large window in the darkness. The studio does not exactly tower over the city but it is high enough to serve Justin with a view over the neighboring houses and to serve him with a of Hudson Bridge right there. If that’s not inspiring, Brian doesn’t know what else is. In the dark, he can’t see that Justin wasn’t joking when he told Brian that he cured the lack of inspiration. With the lights on, Brian would see the numerous framed sketches on the walls, the paintings capturing a nameless man in bliss, in sorrow, in moments of his blossoming life. They gaze out of the window, sipping their wine in silence until their glasses are empty and Justin puts them into one of his work tables. He turns to gaze at Brian expectantly, grinning a little mischievously, before making a move. Brian sighs contently when Justin pulls him close, crushes their lips together and lets himself feel home in Brian’s arms. Justin has seldom felt home anywhere, he lost that feeling when he left his childhood home. But whenever he was with Brian in the past, he always felt like he belonged. He knows their dynamics, knows that their bound to fuck up once in a while but yet, life has always led their paths to cross, led both of them home. Justin revels in the feel of Brian’s possessiveness, gentle hands caressing his skin and holding him close. Brian’s tongue in his mouth, lips trailing down kisses which whisper everything that Brian says seldom: I miss you, I want you, I love you. Stay, stay, stay. And Brian hears the same things – because Justin says them, says them for the two of them. A hope that was once faintly sparkling now set on fire. They never make it to the bedroom. They fuck, yes, Justin bent over the worktable, the wine glasses tumbling dangerously on top of it. They fuck on paint-stained cloths on the floor and once on the couch, downstairs, where they fall asleep. But they don’t fuck in the bed Justin once shared with Kevin. Brian wakes up with Justin pressed to his side, softly snoring. Justin’s features seem relaxed and peaceful and Brian can’t help but press a kiss to Justin’s forehead. It has Justin stirring in his sleep, one arm suddenly thrown over his eyes to block out the light of day. “What time is it?” Justin mutters, hoping that they can stay like this a little longer. “Why? You gotta be somewhere?” Brian asks, shifting and propping his head up on his hand. Justin shakes his head. “No, already am where I belong.” Brian pushes Justin’s shoulder, laughing, and has Justin fall off the couch and land on the floor with a thump. He laughs even harder when Justin groans and tosses a pillow at him. “That hurt, Brian!” he says and stands, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his throbbing behind. They are playful that morning and feel easy in each other’s presence, the past years washed away with the new found confidence in them. *** It’s only a few days later that Justin is invited to a formal occasion, a fund raiser in New York for a house that offers art classes for children that come from a troubled, difficult background. Brian promises to come along, to even pick Justin up at his place as if it were ‘a real date’. Justin laughs when Brian tries to sound nonchalant about it. It’s those things that make him love Brian even more. By eight o’clock that night, Justin is ready and waiting. Brian should have been there ten minutes ago, but there is no sign of him yet. When he hears the buzzer, he flies to the door and opens it for Brian to enter, pulling him to the apartment. There is just one more thing he wants Brian to know. “Sunshine – don’t give me the third degree about punctuality.” Brian mocks and turns to go because yes, they’re late. “Wait, Brian!” Justin calls and picks up the gift-wrapped box from the dining table. “I… just open it. I need you to know.” Justin says bravely, his voice barely breaking at the end. It was a horror to hold it back all the time, a week, and he wants Brian to know now. He remembers, remembers it all. Brian’s breathe catches in his throat when he lifts the lid from the box and fingers a white silk scarf. It feels odd under his fingers and his hands start to tremble. But then he looks at Justin, who smiles, happily. “I… When the memory came back – I remembered. I remembered it all. Brian, I had to leave because I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid to leave you after that night. You loved me, you loved me all the time and I doubted it.” Brian nods in acknowledgement, but it’s hard for him to process the information. It’s Justin who finally unfolds the scarf, lifts it above Brian’s head and wraps it around his neck. “Let’s make a better memory for you.” He whispers and leans in to kiss Brian. Charity events always turn out to be a bore, except for those at Woody’s, and Brian can hardly wait to have Justin to himself. But Justin is a tease and lets Brian wait. He throws suggestive glances over his shoulder at Brian, while socializing with people, and brushes against Brian briefly whenever he walks past where Brian is talking to an old acquaintance. There’s a dancefloor in the middle of the room where couples dance to blues that a band of three plays for them. Justin watches. They will dance, too. In private. There’s no discussion about where they are headed when Brian hails a cab. They’re going back to his place, have a drink, fuck – and they will have to talk. But for now, Brian is silent, his hand resting on Justin’s thigh. Justin’s finger keep reaching for the soft material of the scarf, his mind dwelling in a memory of a night he thought lost. He doesn’t know whether he is making too much of a big deal out of it – but maybe he’s not. He remembers too vividly Brian’s pain about carrying the burden of memory alone. They are just inside Brian’s apartment when Justin kisses Brian, longingly, but making no attempt at taking their kiss any further. A hand firmly wrapped around Brian’s neck, the other entwined in Brian’s hand. His feet shuffle back the tiniest bit, then forth again and to the side – he’s moving to a melody in his hand which Brian seems to pick up on. It’s the last dance of the night and he has saved it for Brian, who gradually moves them into the direction of his bedroom. Brian worships Justin’s body when they undress; there is just no other word for it. Kisses rain down on Justin’s body, leaving spit trails that cool in the air and let Justin shiver. Hands touch sensitive spots, caress inside and outside of Justin’s wanton body. And then he rolls them over, pulls Justin on top of him. In silence, he watches Justin’s eyes grow wide when he pulls up his knees, plants his feet firmly on the bed and lets his legs fall open wide enough. Justin’s heart thumps into his mouth. Brian took him back, Brian wants him around, Brian wants him inside. A slick finger probes against Brian’s opening, then slips inside. In seconds, Justin finds that spot, surprising Brian, who wails, wails and arches off the bed. It’s been so long since he let anyone do that to him – and he’s not going to last because Justin kisses the inside of his thigh, tugs on his cock and slips in a second finger, opening up slowly. But Brian doesn’t want to go slow, can’t go slow and pushes back against the fingers. Justin smiles mischievously, draws his hand away and leaves Brian hanging for a few moments. But then Justin is there, inside of him, moving lazily. He breathes against the sweaty skin of Brian’s chest, licks the salt of it and kisses Brian before Brian pulls away and gasps. He wants to go fast, wants release now, but he doesn’t want for it to be over so soon. “Justin!” he gasps again, one had wrapping around Justin’s back with his fingers digging into the pale skin on Justin’s arm, the other tangling in soft strands of blond hair. Justin chuckles and whispers hoarsely into Brian’s ear. He tells him how he never forgot the feel of Brian under him, how he tastes and sounds when he let Justin top him and how he looks right in that moment when he comes. Brian pays so much attention to where his and Justin’s body connect that he jerks in surprise when Justin’s hand wraps around his shaft. He comes embarrassingly fast but Justin takes delight in it, chanting his name when he follows. Justin can’t move from Brian’s body – not because he’s too limb, too spent , but because Brian keeps him close, muttering a barely audible stay before drifting into sleep. Justin stays awake longer, pulling out eventually and tossing the condom into the trash. He curls up to Brian again, covering them both with the duvet. He catches sight of a white scarf thrown over the back of an armchair in the corner, and hums contently. This has not been their last dance. Epilogue Christmas goes by in a blur of snow, food and presents. The family gathers in the house in West Virginia, complete with Lindsay and Melanie who fly in from Canada with the kids. Gus has a blast playing in the snow with his dad and Justin and in general, everyone is in a good mood. On New Year’s Eve, they all find themselves squeezed into the lobby at the new Kinnetik offices in New York. Brian has been secretive about what happened to the rooms of the nightclub in the lower levels of the house but he promised to reveal it soon. As they stand and toast to each other, Brian takes Justin by the hand and leads him away from the family, down the stairs and into the weakly lit rooms downstairs. Justin doesn’t ask questions – how could he anyway with Brian’s tongue ravishing his mouth? – and decides to be patient and wait, just as Brian has always been patient with him. When they hear the family start the countdown upstairs, Brian switches on the lights. Walls are filled with paintings Justin had put into storage long ago – pictures he hasn’t dared to look at in years. He stares, looks at Brian, and turns to look around the room again. “Is – is this…?” “Your own little gallery in New York, yes.” Brian nods. It’s not long after that they’re discovered, a curious Gus peeking into the room and catching sight of his father and Justin holding hands and laughing. His father spins Justin around, pulls him close, bends him over and Gus wonders how they can dance without music.