Disclaimer: Don't own them! * Chapter 8 – Joy. Discovery. Invention 'This mess we’re in' Justin + Justin woke up slowly, and he was reluctant to open his eyes; he was far too comfortable. He shifted on the bed, and was surprised to feel a body next to him. He quickly opened his eyes and met sleepy hazel ones. Brian. Justin realized with a jolt he’d slept in Brian’s bed… he’d had sex with Brian. Memories of the night came back to him: the fight, the kiss in the backroom, tripping, stripping, giving Brian a blow job, being rimmed by Brian, being fucked by Brian… “Morning, Sunshine.” Justin smiled, “Morning, Brian.” They stared at each other for a while, and it was during the silence that Justin felt panic set in. He had sex with Brian. Fuck. In his fantasies, what happened next was always pretty amazing; Brian would kiss him, fuck him again, and then declare his love for Justin. When he was being realistic, he knew that what happened next would be Brian discarding him like another trick. And, fuck! What could this do to their friendship? Justin didn’t want to fuck up their friendship, it meant too much to him. “Justin, stop freaking out.” “What – how can you…” Justin stuttered. Brian rolled his eyes. “You’re thinking so loudly I can hear you. Plus, you have that face you get whenever you’re considering something and trying not to panic about the conclusions you’re making.” Justin huffed. He so didn’t get a face… did he? Oh, god, what if he did? “Don’t worry, it’s a cute face,” Brian assured him. Justin scowled. Brian always thought he knew what Justin was thinking. Usually, he did know, which kinda bothered Justin, but it also made him feel warm and… fuck! This brought him back to his previous panic attack. Their friendship! Brian knew Justin so well precisely because they were such great friends, and this past night could ruin everything. “Okay, so would you like to tell me what’s freaking you out this badly?” Justin hesitated, and, nervously playing with a loose thread in the duvet, replied, “Our friendship.” “Our friendship?” Brian repeated, eyebrow raised. “Losing our friendship,” Justin clarified. “Because of last night?” Brian asked. Justin nodded. “Justin, it doesn’t need to be more than a fuck. A great fuck, but… you don’t have to tie yourself up in knots about it.” Justin looked at Brian sharply. Just a fuck? “Listen, I – I’d hate to lose your friendship, too,” Brian confessed. “And last night was great, for us both, I think. It was hot, and it was fun. But it doesn’t have to be anything else.” Justin was about to protest, when he realized Brian was saying all that for him, to calm his fears. Brian was making sure their friendship was protected, and the only way to do that was to look at last night as a simple fuck. The damned problem was that Justin wanted more than just a fuck, and he also wanted the friendship, but there was no way of having both ways. So, resigned, he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” “I’m always right,” Brian smirked. “Now, I have to go take a shower and go to soccer practice. I bet fucking Jerkins is gonna be on my case, even though I got injured for winning the damn game.” Justin stared after Brian, unable to keep himself from admiring the slim body, the tight muscles, the slightly tanned skin. The body that had been his, at last. The body he’d let go. With a sigh, he got out Brian’s bed and made his way to the kitchen. He needed some good comfort food. Justin was sitting in a stool by the kitchen counter when Brian walked in, showered and dressed for practice. “Ice-cream, Justin? It’s too fucking early,” Brian was incredulous. Justin shrugged. “I felt like it.” He got up and handed Brian a plate. “I made you some eggs, and toasted some whole-wheat. Coffee will be done in a second.” Brian rolled his eyes, but sat down and started eating. Justin poured the coffee and prepared Brian’s by dumping half the sugar pot in it. He didn’t know why Brian felt like he could criticize Justin for eating ice-cream at this hour when Brian was setting himself up for diabetes with all the sugar he always put in his coffee. “Here you go,” he handed Brian his cup. Brian nodded his thanks and drank it down in one go. “Ah, I needed that.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood up. “I have to go. Thanks for breakfast.” He grabbed his duffel bag, school bag and portfolio, and after giving Justin a peck on the lips, he left. Justin finished his pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, which he loved even though Brian complained about the name. Then he headed to the phone and dialed. “Daph? Emergency. Nine fucking one one.” + Justin was immersed in a sketch, waiting for Daphne near the entrance of the Art Building, when Ethan walked up to him. “Hey, Jus.” Justin looked up, and fought to keep a groan from escaping. He was feeling enough confusion about last night without adding any guilt about Ethan and whatever their occasional dating could be called. “Hey, Ethan,” he finally replied. “I didn’t see you all day yesterday, so I was hoping you might like to have lunch with me today.” A car stopped nearby and honked. Justin recognized Daphne’s car, and he gave Ethan an apologetic grin. “Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t… Daphne’s here to take me to lunch. But, uh, see you later.” He ran to the passenger seat door and quickly hopped inside. “Where’s the fire?” Daphne asked, smiling. “Oh, um, Ethan was inviting me to lunch.” “Well, I don’t actually like him, but I could tolerate him for an afternoon if you want him to come with us,” Daphne shrugged. “No!” Justin exclaimed. Daphne gave him an odd look. “Um, no, I need to talk to you alone.” “Oookay. So, wanna go to the diner?” Justin quickly shook his head. “Let’s just go to the park, we’ll eat something from the vendors.” Armed with hot dogs, sodas and coffee, Justin and Daphne walked around the park until they found a suitable bench to sit on. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” Daphne asked, eyebrows raised expectantly. Justin took a deep breath. “Brian and I fucked last night.” Daphne spat out the drink of soda she’d just taken. “What?! Oh, my god, this is huge! How did it happen?” “I, uh, I went to Babylon to yell at him for breaking the tricking rules. He was in the backroom, so I went there and I was scolding him, and then… he kissed me.” Daphne was wide-eyed and smiling with anticipation. Then she frowned a bit. “You fucked in the backroom?” “No, no. We just kissed in the backroom. Then, Brian led me out by the hand and we went home… and we fucked.” “Whoa,” Daphne breathed out. “So how was it?” Justin rolled his eyes. Daphne shoved him on the arm, and said, “Come on, you can’t just say “we fucked”, dish!” Justin bit his lip, and, finally, grinned. “Okay. It was amazing. I’ve never felt anything like that, with anyone. Oh, god, Daph… the way he kissed me, licked every bit of my body… the way he fucked me! It was incredible.” Daphne grinned. “So?” “So what?” “What now? Are you guys together, or what?” Justin looked away. “No, we’re not.” “Why?” Daphne was taken aback. “We decided it was just a fuck… we didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” Justin explained. “Oh, fuck that, Justin! You know it wasn’t just a fuck. You’ve wanted more than friendship with Brian ever since the night you met him,” Daphne leaned close to Justin, speaking with quiet intensity. “I mean, if you could only see how you two act around each other! Whatever you say, whatever you want to pretend… you don’t just love Brian. You’re in love with Brian. And, trust me, he’s in love with you.” Justin said nothing. Maybe Daphne was right, but he couldn’t risk it, could he? What if it meant he’d lose Brian, for good? Being his friend was better than nothing at all. Fuck, he was so confused. + 'If you want it, get it, come and break my heart Take me to your blackened sky' After lunch with Daphne, Justin went back to school and had an incredibly productive day at the studio. It was so fucking cliché he wanted to give himself a slap on the face, but angst really was productive. “That’s a very intense piece, Justin. It transmits confusion and pain,” his teacher, Miss McIntire, remarked. “Yeah,” Justin sighed. Confusion and pain were exactly what he was feeling, alright. When he got home, he looked around for Brian, but realized he was probably still at Ryder at this hour. He worked on an essay he needed to do for Sculpture class, comparing and contrasting the work of Rodin and Michelangelo. He was about to finish when he heard the lock turning, and looked up to see Brian come in. He was wearing a suit, as he always did when he went to the agency, and Justin had to wonder if it was possible for Brian not to look hot in something. “Hey, Brian. Long day?” Brian grimaced. “You could say that. Jerkins was a fucking asshole, as predicted, and my supervisor in Ryder nearly fucked up a presentation. I saved his ass, and he took all the credit with Ryder.” “That sucks,” Justin commiserated. He got up from his desk and went to the kitchen to get some Cheerios. Brian went into the kitchen for some water, and Justin grabbed the refrigerator handle at the same moment Brian did. They stared at each other, unmoving. “Oh, uh… sorry,” Justin said, eventually, and moved his hand. Brian said nothing, just opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a water bottle. He handed Justin the milk. Justin poured some into his cereal, and started eating. An awkward silence filled the kitchen, and Justin felt out of sorts. Brian drank water, avoiding Justin’s eyes. When Justin finished his cereal, he moved to put his bowl in the sink at the same time Brian moved to grab an apple, and they bumped into each other. They stood in a strange impasse once again, and before Justin could mutter another apology, Brian leaned down and kissed him. Justin kissed him back, accidentally dropping the cereal bowl on the floor, glad it was plastic and uncaring of the mess it would make. Brian’s arms surrounded Justin, bringing him closer to his body, and Justin caressed Brian’s back. “Living room,” Brian breathed, and walked Justin backwards out of the kitchen, alternating between kissing him and nipping at his ears and neck. They made it to the couch and fell on it, shaky hands trying to undress one another. Finally, Justin managed to take Brian’s jacket off, and Brian helped by taking off his tie and shirt. Justin unbuckled Brian’s belt, unbuttoned his pants and started massaging Brian’s hard dick through the cottony fabric of his shorts. Brian moaned, and pulled down Justin’s cargo pants. Justin had never been happier to go commando in his life. They kissed frantically, and Justin whispered, “Fuck me, Brian.” Brian leaned back, quickly looking for a condom and a tiny bottle of lube in the pocket of his pants. He took off his pants and shorts, and pulled Justin’s cargoes all the way down. After putting on the condom and squirting lube onto his fingers, he pushed one inside Justin’s hole to prepare him. Justin threw his head back, clutched his hair with one of his hands. He felt Brian press in a second finger, and then three. He needed more, more. “Fuck me, fuck me,” he panted. Soon, he felt Brian’s dick entering, stretching him. He arched his hips to meet Brian’s thrusts, taking him deeper inside. When Brian hit his prostate, Justin saw white, moaned loudly. It was too much. Brian was too much, and fuck… this felt too good. Justin couldn’t give it up, not now, not after he finally had it. Justin’s toes pointed, and he started to come, his semen spurting between his body and Brian’s. He felt Brain coming as well, and with a satisfied groan, they both collapsed. Justin didn’t mind Brian’s weight on top of him, didn’t want him to pull out yet. Eventually, Brian pulled out, took off the condom and tied it. He got up, went to the kitchen and dropped the used condom in the trash-can, returned with his water bottle and paper wipes. He sat down next to Justin and cleaned him off, offering him some water. Justin accepted and drank thirstily, while Brian lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Justin glanced at Brian, taking in the profile he knew so well. Maybe it was worth it. Maybe Daphne was right, after all. Justin made his decision. He’d tell Brian he wanted more than friendship, and that he wanted this to be more than just a fuck. Before he could speak, however, Brian turned to face him, and started to talk. + Brian 'If you submit to all the hopes you’ve made Down through your heart Get up, get up, get over Take me to your blackened sky' + Brian didn’t sleep too much, that night. Not with Justin lying next to him, not with the memory of all they had done in constant replay in his brain. He slept for an hour, maybe two, but he was soon awake, looking at Justin sleep. Some part of him wished the morning wouldn’t come, because the morning would mean facing consequences and saying words he was no good at saying. But, inevitably, dawn sneaked in through the blinds, and Brian waited while daylight filled the room, and brought whatever confrontation was coming closer. Finally, Justin stirred next to him. Brian gazed at him, noticed how Justin realized he wasn’t alone or in his own bed, and opened his eyes. Brian could read the thoughts in those blue eyes, the wondering and the realization, the memories. “Morning, Sunshine.” “Morning, Brian,” Justin replied, yawning. They were silent, then, and Brian kept on looking at Justin, waiting for the fall out that was sure to come. He could tell when Justin started thinking, when he started panicking, and told him, “Justin, stop freaking out.” The conversation that soon followed was strange; it made Brian breathe easier and crushed him at once. He told Justin that it’d only been a fuck, that they didn’t need to make it mean anything more. He understood Justin’s fear about their friendship, because it was Brian’s fear as well. And so, with nonchalance he didn’t feel, Brian dismissed the past night with a smile, and got ready for school. After he was ready, he made his way to the kitchen, and was faintly surprised at seeing Justin had prepared breakfast for him. He started eating, trying hard not to stare at Justin licking ice-cream off a spoon and picturing him licking Brian’s cock. He ate as quickly as possible, and drank his coffee in one go, desperate to leave the apartment. He really, really hoped soccer practice would take his mind off things. “Well, well, well… our captain finally deems it’s time to return to practice,” Coach Jenkins greeted Brian. Brian struggled not to punch him. “Doctor’s orders, coach. Couldn’t play for two weeks.” “Hmm. So, what are you waiting for? Start running, Kinney. Got a lot of catching up to do.” That was basically how the next hour and a half panned out. Coach Jenkins made Brian work harder than anyone else, kept ribbing him about missing two weeks, and refused to acknowledge Brian’s performance in the last game, even after the team cheered and presented him with a cake after practice was over. Brian ate a small piece and gave the rest to his teammates, wincing when he chewed because his nose was just a bit tender. Fucking Jerkins. Sadly, his classes didn’t prove to be much of a distraction either. In Mr. Johns’ class, students were presenting their projects, which were complete ad campaigns for different products the teacher had assigned to them. Halfway through the first presentation, Brian was already bored out of his mind. The ideas were old, clichéd, and mediocre at best. Brian’s presentation wasn’t until next class, so he pulled out his copy of Thank You for Smoking by Christopher Buckley and started reading. Lindsay caught up with him at lunchtime, and he made his way through a wilted salad while she talked about her latest love woes with Rebecca Tucci. Eventually, she noticed Brian wasn’t actually listening, and said, “Okay. Out with it. What’s wrong?” “Why would something be wrong?” Brian asked. “Because by now you should have said something like, “go find another twat to go down on”, or something equally insensitive,” Lindsay pointed out. “Well, it’s nothing. Maybe your muncher meltdowns are just less fascinating than usual,” Brian smirked. Lindsay gave him a penetrating look, and shook her head. “No, it’s not that. You want to know what I think?” “No.” “It’s Justin.” Brian looked at her, surprised, but refused to say anything. “What happened?” Lindsay tilted her head, and gasped. “Oh, my god. You had sex, didn’t you?” Brian shrugged. “Brian! That’s… how…” Lindsay broke off, and frowned. “You told him it meant nothing, didn’t you?” Brian looked away, pretending to be fascinated by a poster outlining what a good diet consisted of. “Oh, Brian,” Lindsay sighed. “I know you’re gonna tell me that this is none of my business, and to butt out, but… you love him, Brian. You love him, and he loves you, and it’s stupid to pretend otherwise. Denying it can only hurt you both.” “Lindsay – it’s none of your business, so butt out.” Later, driving to Ryder Advertising, Brian decided Lindsay was wrong. What could hurt Justin would be to admit things, to even contemplate having something together. Because Brian was no good for a relationship, no good for anything else than a great fuck. It’s the way it was, and the way it would stay. + By the time Brian made it home, he was tired and frustrated. His day had sucked, in every way but the good way. After the horrible soccer practice, boring classes and lesbian inquisition, he’d also faced the incompetence of fucking Mr. Anderson, who almost lost them a client; and after Brian swept in, saving the day, making sure the client liked the campaign and signed the contract, goddamned Anderson had gone to Ryder and taken all the glory for himself. Throughout it all, he couldn’t stop thinking about Justin, about last night. So yeah, he was tired and frustrated, but he was also fucking horny. Walking inside the apartment, he noticed Justin was working on some homework on his desk. Justin looked up and greeted him, asking about his day, and Brian gave him an edited account. He dropped his bags in the usual place by the door, and walked to the kitchen to get some water, biting back a smile when he saw Justin pouring himself Cheerios. He just never stopped eating. A strong moment of tension ensued when they both grabbed the fridge handle, but Justin reacted and moved away. The second time they bumped into each other, Brian couldn’t resist. Not while Justin was looking at him the way he was, with lust, love, with so much fucking desire. Brian captured his lips in a kiss, and before he knew it, he had Justin lying down on the couch, legs on his shoulders, and he was inside him. Brian fucked Justin hard, letting go of the frustrations of the day, losing himself inside Justin, just one more time, before he said the words that needed to be said. When it was over, Brian brought some paper wipes from the kitchen and cleaned Justin off. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and pulled himself together. He faced Justin, and started speaking. “Justin… this can’t happen again. I – I’m sorry,” Brian started. Justin looked surprised. “We said last night was only a fuck, and I know I shouldn’t have kissed you just now. We shouldn’t have done… what we did. So let’s call it an accident, and, um… move on.” “An accident?” Justin whispered. “Yeah.” Brian ran a hand through his hair. “We won’t let it happen again. Won’t let it ruin our friendship. Okay?” “Okay." TBC A/N: Title from song by Biffy Clyro. Songs quoted are This Mess We're In by PJ Harvey feat. Thom Yorke and Joy. Discovery. Invention by Biffy Clryo. Thank you SO much for your feedback! It means A LOT.