Two Months Later
Justin’s POV

Guilty. Of all charges.

As the reaction of the courtroom erupted and reverberated around me, I could feel Ethan’s eyes burning into me from the opposite bench. He was trying to get me to look at him; trying to make me see his look of remorse or defiance or regret or whatever the fuck he was feeling. But I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care what he was feeling.

Instead I turned my back on him and faced the crowd of joyful supporters- family, friends, random people I wasn’t entirely sure I knew- all of whom were surging forward to congratulate me. They were all laughing (or crying) with relief and happiness, praising me as if I’d single-handedly manned the whole prosecution process.

It had in fact been Melanie who’d represented me. If it hadn't been for her, I just may have gone completely insane. It was on account of her that the opposition’s accusations of assault were dropped. 

Mel had been fantastic...but it had Brian who’d really secured my victory. 

Just as he’d predicted, the courtroom was full to bursting with what looked like half of Liberty Avenue and the entire Gay and Lesbian Centre contingent. Brian had warned me also to expect more people –more Taylor supporters- and may be a camera crew or two outside on the street.

Brian’s strategy had been sheer genius and, as always, he’d pulled it off miraculously. 

After the ‘fiasco at the Gay and Lesbian Centre’ earlier in the month, Brian had advised his client Chief Stockwell that, in order to win back the voters’ trust, he’d have to persuade the public that he did, without the shadow of a doubt, intend to protect and represent every citizen of Pittsburgh- gay, straight, or otherwise. 

And what better way to do this than to ensure justice was served and dutifully noted in a criminal case involving two gay men in a homosexual relationship? Brian of course made sure that the media were well informed of for Stockwell’s strive for municipal equality, peace and justice. 

It turned out to be an unqualified disaster for Stockwell. 

While searching for information on my background, a journalist from a prestigious newspaper had dug up and published all the details of my bashing, including Chris Hobbs’ ridiculously inadequate sentence. The newshound also managed to stir up the Jason Kemp case again- more specifically, the fact that the investigation had been abandoned so prematurely on account of Jason’s lifestyle.

All hell broke lose as people- gay and straight- learnt of this ‘blatant discrimination within a corrupt justice system’. Stockwell had to do some pretty fast talking to get out of that one, but even so, he permanently lost his lead in the election. 

Which meant Brian lost his job.

I was horrified at Brian’s enormous sacrifice, especially after I realized that it had been in his plans all along. But he didn’t regret it, he told me gently one night when I expressed my distress, some things were just worth it; the Back Room, No-Towels-Night, freedom to fuck…and me.

In order to prevent Stockwell from realizing he had really and truly been set up (and thereby preserving the Kinney reputation), Brian had attempted to veil his personal connection with the case as much as possible. The fact that he had acted as a witness to the prosecution had been hushed up somewhat, and his relationship to me downplayed. 

He’d warned me not to attempt any contact with, seem interested in, or even glance in his direction in or around the court house. Of course I understood this, but I couldn’t help sending a casual sweeping glance around the room in search of him then, in order to see his reaction to the victory.

The visual survey of the vicinity yielded only a glimpse at some of Ethan’s people; a few of his family members and a handful of his music teachers and mentors. Both of his parents were crying and I wondered whether if the tears were for Ethan or for themselves. I heard at least two people mutter the word ‘appeal’, but the overwhelming evidence against Ethan was pretty conclusive. 

I tried not to feel too disappointed that Brian seemed to have left without acknowledging me. But just as I was being sheparded out of the courtroom by my loudly rejoicing family, friends, and supporters, I felt a hand close over the back of my neck for a brief instant, giving it a tight, affectionate squeeze. 

I looked up and smiled to myself as I watched Brian’s slim figure slide past us and disappear into the confusion of microphones, news anchors, and flashing cameras.

~~~

That Night

Brian’s POV

“Why the fuck are you tired?” I asked the cat draped casually around my neck and shoulders like a warm, fluffy stole. “You sleep all the time, you little shit. Except for those times when I’m asleep and you practice your pouncing on my stomach.”

Wolfram purred, and rubbed his head against the stubble at the side of my face as I reached up to scratch under his ears. The stupid critter had this weird affinity for my neck, and would take every opportunity he could get to leap onto me and curl up around my shoulders. Some people had affectionate lap cats. I had a fucking parrot. 

Although I would never admit it, I’d become very fond of the cat’s slight reassuring weight, the feel of his soft, warm fur, and his unconditional affection for me. But if anyone asked; I ‘never’ let him sleep on my bed, ‘never’ bought him expensive gourmet cat food, and ‘never’ got onto the floor to drag his catnip mouse along for him to chase. And, of course, I ‘never, ever’ engaged him in rhetorical conversations…

Fuck. If I got any more soft stops, I’d be in danger of getting spongiform encephalitis.   

I was lounging on the sofa, attempting to read ‘Patent and Practice; Your Own Business”, but all I could really think about was Justin. I’d been getting definite smoke signals from him ever since Mother Taylor, practically erupting with gratitude for my efforts in the courtroom, had brought him back to the loft about an hour after my own return. 

Justin had responded well enough to the passionate congratulatory/thank-God-that’s-over sex, but he was so fucking exhausted he’d fallen asleep in my arms almost before I’d come down from my climax. He hadn’t even stirred as I’d carefully pulled out, cleaned him up a bit, and tucked the sheets snuggly around him.

Those long days and sleepless nights were finally taking their toll on him. Although Justin’s nightmares were no where near as frequent now, I’d woken up twice that week in the middle of the night to find him wide awake, staring into nothingness, deep in thought. 

Both of those times had led to slow and gentle lovemaking, not so much for pleasure as for comfort; for an assertion and assurance of togetherness. Ironically, when we were curled up together afterwards, Justin’s hands holding mine tightly even in sleep, it was me who remained awake, long into the wee hours of the morning, just thinking about him.

In many ways, he was back to the Justin I knew and loved.

He still loved sex. He loved it most of all when I let him be in charge, when he could control the play in a way I’d seldom given him the opportunity to do before . He became alive with fiery passion; so fucking hot that I had to fight with myself to keep from cumming before I was inside him. But at other times, he still wanted the strong direction I had to offer, be it hard and fast or slow and sensual.

I gave him everything he wanted. All I had to give for all I had that mattered.

“Ok, get off me. I need to piss.” I told Wolfram, shifting him off me and standing up. Wolfram meowed in protest and look up at me reproachfully, but then curled up comfortably in the warm spot I had just been sitting in.

I tip-toed through the bedroom and into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me and making a sincere effort to pee quietly. When I came out again, I was about to pad softly back through the bedroom again when a glance in the direction of the bed made me stop short.

Justin was awake, laying face-down on the duvet, his arms folded under the pillow and his head resting on top of it, hair spreading across the ivory material in golden streaks. I’d thought he was asleep on my way to the bathroom, but I saw now that his eyes were wide open, the light from the kitchen lights reflected in their glassy depths, his face bearing that same troubled, vacant look I’d seen before. 

“Hey,” I whispered, not really sure why I felt the need to speak softly. Justin jerked, as if my voice had broken some kind of trance. His eyes snapped in my direction and he looked as if he were relived it was me and not someone else.

I crawled onto the bed and moved to sit cross-legged beside him, reaching forward to run a hand down the bare skin of his back. Justin shifted his upper body, abandoning the pillow in favour of my lap, laying his cheek on top of his forearms which were folded against my thighs. I manoeuvred around carefully so he didn’t have to twist his back so uncomfortably to achieve the position.

“Hey” I whispered again, combing my fingers through his mane of tousled hair and running my finger tips feather-light across his cheek bone. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” He murmured tiredly, pulling his arms out and wrapping them around my waist, tucking his head in against my midriff.

“It seems like pretty substantial nothing.” I replied softly, squeezing the back of his neck as a gentle admonition. “C’mon, Sunshine.” 

Justin sighed heavily and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. I slid back on the bed to lean against the headboard and held my arms out to him, needing his closeness. Justin crawled over to me and climbed into my lap, wrapping his legs around my waist so that we were sitting nestled together, chest-to-chest. Justin was silent for some time and I smoothed my hands up his arms and down his back and sides, waiting patiently for him to collect his thoughts.

“I know I should be happy about the trial,” he began haltingly, his fingers playing with the strands of hair at the nape of my neck. “I mean, I am really- I’m so relived it ended like this. And I’m so incredibly thankful for everything you did for me, Brian-”

“Did for us,” I corrected gently, running my hands over the soft, warm skin of his shoulders.

“Right; for what you did for us. Brian, it was truly, well, noble. Heroic. Something a superhero would do…” 

I smiled and leaned in to kiss him, accepting the compliment for what it was. We lingered over the kiss for a long time; lips brushing, noses touching, hands soothing and caressing. I was lost in it, but I finally managed to pull myself together again to remember Justin’s inner turmoil. I pushed back on his shoulder gently and dipped my head to look into his face.

“But?” I prompted. Justin’s face clouded over again as he struggled to find the right words.

“But I…I don’t like it.” Justin looked away from me as he spoke. “I know Ethan deserves everything he got, but I don’t like knowing it was because of me. He’s gonna go through the kind of hell I went through for three months…but for the rest of his life. And it’ll be my fault…I’ll really be the one making him suffer, causing him all that pain.”

I caught Justin’s chin and forced him to meet my gaze. I wanted to shake him hard, to yell at him not to believe or even think such idiotic things. But I was prevented from doing this by the realization that it was how Ethan might have responded. And I wasn’t Ethan. 
 
“Justin, listen to me. No, look at me!” Justin lifted his eyes again to meet my ferocious gaze, and I saw him flinch slightly at the sharpness of my voice. 
 
“Whatever happens to Ethan is Ethan’s fault. He made those choices, Justin; he chose that path knowing full well where it could lead. He alone bears the responsibility for his own pain and suffering. Just like everyone else. So don’t you DARE think that it’s your fault!”

Justin tried to lower his gaze again, but I forced his head up again with a thumb under his chin. He looked searchingly into my eyes for a few moments, as if trying to find something there.

“Does that mean I’m responsible for what Ethan did to me because I left you?” he asked softly, and I heard his voice quaver slightly.

“Fuck, Justin, of course it doesn’t!” I replied without even thinking, reaching out and pulling his body flush against mine. He wrapped his arms and legs around me, clinging to me and burying his face in the crook of my neck. I held onto him tightly for a few moments before pulling back and taking his face in my hands.

“There are so many people and things we could blame, Sunshine; the authorities for not preventing Ethan re-offending, me for not realizing what was going on sooner, you for not getting help, both of us for being stupid enough to almost let go of each other…but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Justin put his hands up and held onto my forearms, laying his forehead against mine. I brought our faces very close together, so close I could feel his breath, warm and moist, against my cheek. I was suddenly very aware of his nearness; the feel of his skin against mine, the silkiness of his hair under my fingertips, the delicate curves and hollows of his body, and the scent his breath. All the essence of Justin.

“What matters,” I whispered so softly the words were almost lost to the silence that engulfed us, “is that I have you. And you have me. And what we have between us is strong enough to endure anything life can throw at us; all the Chris Hobbs and Ethan Golds and Jim Stockwells of this world can never even touch us. We’re survivors, Sunshine.”

Justin put his arms around my neck and hugged me tightly, and I returned the embrace lovingly to show his I’d meant what I’d said. After a while Justin pulled away, and I gently kissed the tears from his cheeks, his own divine essence mixed in with the salty drops and rivulets. He leaned in and rested his forehead against mine once more, and we were silent for a time, lost to everything but one another.

“It’s like a dandelion growing through the concrete,” Justin reflected softly, calling me back from my revere. “Love grew where no one thought it could, where it wasn’t supposed to…but now nothing else can touch it.”

I smiled and kissed his face tenderly, thinking how strange it was that Justin’s art often found its way into his words. Beautiful ideas, colourful thoughts, contrasts of light and dark.

“Dandelions, huh?” 

I lifted Justin gently and laid him down on his back on the bed. I leaned forward to cover his body with mine, kissing and nuzzling my way up chest and shoulders and collarbone. When I reached his head, I propped myself up on my elbows and combed my fingers lovingly through his hair, feeling his hands closing gently over the back of my neck.

“You’re right, you know.” I told him, twirling the golden strands around my fingers. “All those dead poets always said love is like a rose…but love that really matters is like a dandelion; sturdy, steadfast, insistent; beautiful in its own way. Roses wither and die in winter, but dandelions always come back.”

Justin smiled up at me and leaned up to kiss my chin.

“And dandelions don’t have thorns.”

THE END

A/N: Sigh. Another story finished. I hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!- Sapphire.