In My Life A series of vignettes about Brian and Justin’s life together. I know I’ll never lose affection For people and things that went before I know I’ll always stop and think about them In my life, I love you more. In My Life The Beatles ~ ♥-♥-♥ ~ Splotches Out of bed by eight, Brian slipped on a pair of jeans and came down the stairs, his footsteps heavy as they hit the tread, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Not even a morning blowjob? Fuck, what was that all about? Life was going to be dull enough today since he had enough fuckin’ work to keep three people busy. At least there should’ve been some incentive for waking up and enjoying life, but, shit, said incentive had apparently slipped out of bed while he slept. Justin sat at the counter, in sweats, looking rumpled and sleepy. “Hey,” he mumbled as Brian drew near. His cereal bowl was piled high with Fruit Loops, several which had escaped to no doubt join the splotch of milk on the polished stainless steel. Shit. He opened his mouth to say something grumpy and then saw the coffee, already made, with his cup sitting next to the sugar. Waiting for him. Well, okay. He fixed a cup and went around to claim the stool next to Justin. “You ought to wipe that up,” he couldn’t help but say as he realized the splotch was really two splotches. “Yeah, it’s going to ruin the stainless,” Justin said in a mildly sarcastic voice. He turned to meet Brian’s gaze and smiled when he did. Then he set down his spoon, leaned over, and kissed Brian full on the mouth, cold lips instantly warmed as Brian sucked in the fruity goodness. That’s when Brian relaxed. Okay, then. Maybe not such a bad day after all. ~ ♥-♥-♥ ~ Snow Angels When he finally managed to pull the Jeep into their two-car garage, next to Justin’s truck, the snow had eased up a little even though he knew it was only a respite. Ten-to-twelve fuckin’ inches. That’s what the weatherman predicted and even more should the storm linger. Brian exhaled in frustration. He had to send the whole staff home early. Fuck knows he didn’t want to, but hearing later on that Cynthia froze to death on one of the unplowed rural roads close to her home wasn’t his idea of a morale booster. Could the timing be worse? They had the Aptins account to finish before Friday and, curmudgeon that he was, Mr. Holdsworth, CEO of Aptins, Inc., which sold hospital equipment to every healthcare center in the country, was unlikely to be moved by tales of inconvenient snowstorms. Sure, every Kinnetik employee went home with his or her laptop, but certain things needed to be done at the office and, fuck, now they weren’t being done. He exited the car and opened the trunk, staring at the groceries he’d managed to acquire after beating off a horde of crazed housewives snatching up supplies like they were facing the Snowstorm of the Century. Not that Justin and he didn’t already have a walk-in pantry jam-packed with all manner of edibles thanks to Verna, their housekeeper/cook, who took her marching orders from Mr. Justin Taylor himself. There were enough boxes of Fruit Loops and Count Chocula alone to feed all the kids in the neighborhood. Speaking of which … “Hey!” Justin appeared around the corner, stomping so loud in the snow he’d announced his arrival. Beaming that dazzling smile, he drew near Brian. “Isn’t this great?” Justin asked as he leaned forward, cheeks rosy, eyes alight with excitement, to kiss his partner. “Hang on!” He held Justin back with a hand on his chest, surveying his snow-covered pants, and coat. “What the fuck happened?” Justin looked down at his clothing. “Oh, that. Nothing. I was just making snow angels.” Brian’s tongue went into his cheek, one eyebrow raised. “And you’re what now? Twenty-three? Or was that just three?” “Oh, come on, Mr. Grumpypants! It’s snowing! It’s fun!” “It won’t be so much fun, Sunshine, when we lose the Aptins account.” Had it been too much to expect that when Justin became a full partner in Kinnetik, he’d take the firm seriously? Note to self: overblown expectations will always earn you— “We won’t lose it,” Justin said with great emphasis on the word “won’t.” “I did the artwork myself. Mr. Holdsworth thinks I’m a genius.” “You are a genius.” The kid looked so cute he had to kiss him, ten seconds of perfection in the middle of such a practical discussion, but he finally drew back to stare into guileless blue eyes. “You did it yourself rather than handing it off to someone on staff?” “Yeah. Come on, make a snow angel with me—twin snow angels!” “I have work to do. The copy isn’t going to write itself and—” “Dana has half the copy written; I just talked to her. You can edit what she’s done. You know she’s good.” Justin tugged at his arm. “Come on! Live a little. You’re wearing jeans and your jacket so don’t even start about getting your clothes wet.” Reluctantly, but with that familiar warmth fluttering inside his heart, Brian let himself be pulled outside where the snow had once again picked up and was coming down with a ferocious intensity. He laughed when they fell back onto an unblemished area and began to move their arms and legs. Fuck Mr. Holdsworth! Fuck the Aptins account! They’d both still be there when they finished. ~ ♥-♥-♥ ~ The P-Word They were “strolling the property,” a concept Brian came up with after they hired the gardeners to keep their ten acres of land manicured and up to neighborhood standards. Brian, who knew nothing about grass, trees, flowers, any of it, but Brian nonetheless, insisted they take a walk every now and then to make sure things were being done properly. As if he had a fuckin’ clue. Justin had teased him about this particular trait of home ownership, but, well, not today. Today he was hell-bent on getting across a point he’d made at breakfast and would now reiterate during their Sunday morning jaunt. “Okay,” he said as the sun glinted overhead and a sweet-scented breeze ruffled his hair. “So, I’m standing with you, and Mr. Johnson comes up and introduces himself. You say, ‘Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson, this is Justin Taylor, my ….?” Squinting, Brian examined the sky, his face a mask of studied concentration. “Complete pain in the ass? Bossy bottom? Artiste extraordinaire?” “Brian! Cut it out! I’m serious. It’s embarrassing to be standing next to you and get completely ignored because you break out in a cold sweat every time you have to say the p-word. You and I have partnership papers up the kazoo. You can’t take a crap without checking with me first, so get over yourself.” He took a deep breath and vowed not to get angry. “This is Justin Taylor, my …?” “Beautiful male companion? Talented painter? Best giver of blowjobs in the tri-county area?” “What is wrong with you?” He stopped them with a hand on Brian’s arm and turned to face him. “You say it right now or there will be serious hell to pay.” Brian gave him a goofy smile. “That sounds promising.” “No, it’s going to be embarrassing as hell. I’ll be telling people the story about you and Christmas and that candy cane.” Brian looked at him, deadpan. “You wouldn’t.” “I would. If anyone should hear where that candy cane ended up after …” “Mr. Johnson, this is Justin Taylor, my partner.” Brian spoke in a perfectly proper tone of voice. “He shares everything with me, both personal and professional. He’s an excellent businessman, a fine, upstanding citizen, a gifted artist, stellar son and brother, and a sensual, creative lover who—” “Okay, okay!” Laughing, he smacked Brian’s arm. “You don’t have to go overboard.” Brian hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him close. “I’ll go anywhere with you, my love,” he murmured just before he kissed him. As Justin melted against him, his toes curled inside his sneakers. Okay. Much better. Much, much better. ~ ♥-♥-♥ ~ Flavors “This is ridiculous, you know,” Justin said to Brian as he stared at the cartons on the counter. “I asked you to get one or two flavors I like, not bring home the entire store.” Brian stared at the fifteen containers of ice cream he’d picked out at the local Shop n Save, and shrugged, wide-eyed. “So, I went a little overboard.” “No, you didn’t,” Justin answered on a sudden hunch. God, it was true, he knew Brian so well. “You’re not being remarkably generous here.” He leaned closer to the man and stuck a finger in his chest. “You did it because you don’t know my favorite flavors.” Brian’s hazel eyes widened in faux distress. “Yes, I do.” “No, you don’t! We’ve been together now, what? Ten years? And you still don’t have a clue about things like that.” Brian did his best to look injured and indignant. “Of course I do.” “Great, then name one flavor of ice cream I love,” Justin said in a challenging tone. He raised an eyebrow. “Come on! I dare you! Just one.” Brian looked down at the round and rectangular containers of ice cream that stretched across their kitchen’s stainless steel countertop. Justin watched as his gaze went from carton to carton, as he read each name, as he contemplated his answer. Then he took a decisive step forward and lifted Justin’s hand where it rested on a quart of … “Rocky Road,” he said with conviction as he read the label. “You big shit!” Justin laughed, smacking him again. He removed his hand to wrap it around Brian’s neck and plant a kiss on his mouth, lingering for a delicious moment. “You’re so bad!” He pulled back to gaze at his partner. “What the fuck are we going to do with so much ice cream?” He grabbed the Rocky Road and a few other flavors, and began to stuff them into the freezer. Brian picked up a few, to help, giving him a wicked grin as he did. “Oh, I think we’ll manage.” He plucked the Cherries Garcia out of Justin’s hand. “After all … it’s a pretty hot day.” Justin laughed as Brian dragged him toward their swimming pool and the double chaise lounge with the cabana hood that’d become a favorite, if somewhat sticky, spot. “And about to get hotter!” he chortled as Brian pulled him out the door.