Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction
Author's Chapter Notes:

Brian goes to dinner with Lindsey, Mel, Gus and JR. Mel prods him a little about his past and his night terrors begin to change. He tries to tell Justin about it...


**Abusive language*   ** Memories of abuse**R rating ***

 

Why Not With Me

Chapter Seven: Standards of Manliness

“Good morning, Pittsburgh. It’s Thursday, February 10, and tt’s going to be an unusually mild  morning,  with a high of 44 here today..”

 

I reach across to the nightstand and press the alarm clock’s buttons at random until the damn radio alarm goes off. How can it be morning? I feel like I haven’t slept…well, like I haven’t slept all week.

It has been three days now of tossing and turning, or else waking up in a panic, like what happened Monday.

 

I hate to admit it, but it’s starting to wear on me a little. I didn’t go to Babylon last night because I was trying to turn in early -- me, turn in early -- but it didn’t work. I still hadn’t fallen asleep til almost 3AM. Oh well. There’ve been plenty of nights in my life that I’ve gone to bed at 3AM, though usually for much more exciting and fun reasons than last night. 

 

The rest of the day looks like it’ll be pretty boring; the biggest thing is a client lunch with Ted and a new client, some old fashioned laundry soap tycoon or something. Just by talking to this guy, Mr. K.L. Husley, I knew our working styles would probably be too different to make this an easy relationship.  That’s pretty much why I’m making Cynthia and Ted come to lunch; that way he’ll have a wider base of people he can deal with and he won’t hate Kinnetik if he doesn’t like me.

 

As I get up, I look over at “Believe.” These last few days I’ve been gazing at it a lot, illuminated by the moonlight. It makes me feel like Justin is here, that I’m not alone. Of course, I am alone. But not really, because I know if I need him, Justin is always there for me.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Work went just as planned, except the need for additional caffeine boosts through the day. Before I know it, I’m back at the loft, getting ready to meet Gus and his mothers at Pizza Palace. I wish it were just going to be Lindsey and me. I don’t understand why Mel has to come along all the time. I know it’s not to spend the time with me, and I’m sure she’s no bigger fan of Pizza Palace than I am.  Oh well, at least Gus will be there, and little JR, who gets cuter by the day. 

 

I pull my Corvette into the Pizza Palace parking lot. Every other vehicle is some kind of monstrosity -- SUVs and station wagons with little “Baby on Board” stickers. I think I feel my headache beginning already.

 

As I get out of the car, I glance across the parking lot and spot Gus running toward me at full speed. 

 

“Daddy!!!” I lift him up and swing him around a few times while he laughs. I love spinning him around like this, and before long he’ll be too big to do it.

 

“Brian, put him down before you make him sick. He’s just about to eat pizza, you know,”  Mel says by way of greeting. 

 

“Nice to see you too, Mel.” I put Gus down and he takes my hand. 

“She’s probably just saying that cuz JR was sick this morning,” Gus informs me with an air of authority in his voice. 

 

“Oh really?” I ask, kissing Lindsey hello. 

 

“Yep. Momma says it was because I shouldn’t have shared my cotton candy with her right after breakfast.” 

 

“Hmmmm, I guess that would be a tough decision. At least you were sharing though. That‘s thoughtful of you,” I say, smiling above his head at Lindsey, who winks back at me. 

 

We go inside Pizza Palace and immediately are accosted by a huge orange armadillo, the Pizza Palace mascot, who leads us to a table and gives us our menus. 

 

“Daddy,” Gus says, squirming around in my lap, “can I order for us?” 

 

“After last time, I don’t think ---” 

 

But I cut Mel off mid-sentence. “Of course you can, Gus.  Let’s figure out what we want first though.” 

 

Mel is glowering at me, but what the hell? She’s always glowering at me. 

 

“I want pepperoni pizza, and French fries, and onion rings! Oooh --” he’s flipping through the menu, which is filled with pictures since they cater to the pre-reading crowd. “and cheese sticks!! Yeah. Cheese sticks are sooo good. Do you know about cheese sticks, Daddy?” 

 

He looks up at me with such innocence. He really thinks I might never have heard about mozzerella sticks. It must be fun to be six years old. 

 

“Yeah, but it’s been a long time since I‘ve had them,” I say honestly.

 

“Hmmm. Let’s see what else they’ve got here…. Look, Daddy! They have ice cream and cake too!” Judging by the level of excitement in his voice and the fact that he is practically bouncing up and down, I shudder at the thought of him after cake and ice cream. 

 

“That’s far to much food for tonight, Gus. We’ll probably just order a pepperoni pizza,” Lindsey tells him while fussing with JR’s booster seat. 

 

I reach over and turn his menu pages back a couple, to their tiny salad selection. 

 

“Hey Gus,” I say softly, “look here. Something healthy like a salad would be the perfect thing to go with pizza.” 

 

Gus looks at me somewhat skeptically. “I guess so, Daddy.” 

 

“Sure it will be. It looks like they have two kinds, House Salad and Caesar Salad. Can you tell what makes them different?” I ask. Gus begins looking more closely at the pictures.

 

“Umm, this one’s got tomatoes, and cucumbers, and carrots,” he answers quickly.

 

“Yep. That one is the house salad. What about the other one?”

 

“It doesn’t have anything like that, just lettuce and those things -- those crunchy things -- what are they called?” His eyes are wide with surprise at having found a salad with no other vegetables in it. 

 

“Croutons,” Mel supplies before I can. 

 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Gus says, glancing at her momentarily.

 

“That one is the Caesar salad. Which of these two salads do you think is healthier?” I ask him.

 

“The one with more vegetables, the house salad.” 

 

“You’re right. The extra vegetables do make it healthier, and we could really use some healthy food to balance out this pizza. Do you think we should order one?”

 

“Okay, sure!” He’s smiling, but I know he doesn’t really love salad that much. He’s just an enthusiastic kid.

 

“So are you ready to order for us?” I ask and his excitement level triples. 

 

“I think so.” 

 

“One extra large pepperoni pizza and one extra large house salad,” I tell him, realizing that we hadn’t discussed sizes before, “that will be enough food.”

 

“One extra large pepperoni pizza,” he repeats, pointing to the picture for practice, “and one extra large house salad,” he finishes and looks up at me. 

 

Suddenly I realize that Mel has been watching me the whole time with this funny, bemused look on her face. I’m sure I’ll hear about it whenever Gus is out of earshot.

 

 

“That’s right. Good, they’re coming over here,” I continue, seeing the waiter heading over. 

 

“Are you ready to order?” he asks, looking at me.

 

“I’m ordering,” Gus announces. I catch the waiter rolling his eyes. He must hate it when the kids decide to order for themselves. I bet most of them make it impossible for him to get the order right. 

 

But not Gus. Gus does it perfectly. 

 

“We’ll have one extra large pepperoni pizza,” he points and looks at the waiter -- oh god, I think he’s making sure the waiter writes it down. He is so funny! 

 

“And one extra large house salad, please,” he finishes once he is satisfied with the waiter’s performance. 

 

“Alright, that’ll be out in about half an hour.” The waiter looked at least somewhat impressed with Gus, I can’t help but notice. 

 

“Way to go, Gus! Perfect,” I say as he turns to me with a huge smile on his face. I give him a high five and he curls under my arm. 

 

“I told you Daddy taught me how to order,” he informs his mothers.

 

“I see that. You did good,” Lindsey says her tone not as warm as I would like it to be. 

 

“Daddy, can I go play until the pizza gets here?” he asks me. I love it when he asks me when both his mothers are sitting right in front of him. 

 

“Sure, but come check in every once in a while so we know you’re okay.” 

 

“I will, Daddy. And I won’t talk to any adults I don’t know,” Gus assures me before I can mention it.

 

“Good. Have fun,” I say and he goes running off, leaving me there with Mel, Lindz and JR.

 

Given my options, my choice wasn’t difficult. 

 

“And how is little Jenny Rebecca today?” I ask, tapping her lightly on the nose with my fingertip. She grins. 

 

“Looking good, is that a Prada jumper?” I love it to tickle her feet, which she kicks while she giggles. She really is an adorable kid.

 

“Brian -- mommies -- pizza,” she says, looking around the table at all of us while the loud music blared like a carnival around us. Her tone tells me exactly what she means -- she can’t believe what she’s seeing. Me and her mothers at this crazy pizza joint together.

 

“Yeah, you don’t see this every day, huh JR?” I ask brushing my thumb softly under her chin so she’s looking right at me. Her eyelashes are about as long and full as Justin’s.

 

“So, Brian,” Mel cuts in, “since when are you, the man who carries tablets of ecstasy in his wallet, concerned about having extra vegetables in salad?”

 

“Gus needs to learn about eating healthy,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and taking a long sip of my ice water.

 

“You don’t think we’re teaching him that?”  Before I can say anything, Lindsey responds. 

“Brian didn’t say that.” Damn right I didn’t. 

“I just find it odd that you put on this show for your son, of this polite --” 

 

“It’s not an act. I want him to learn how to be a man, and I’m the only example he really has of that.” 

 

Why do I feel like I’ve had this conversation a million times? 

 

“I mean, you’re always ordering people around, you never say please, or thank you, or, sorry. The way you normally act, I’d have to say nobody ever taught you all these lessons,” Mel observes. 

 

“They didn’t.”  My voice is completely serious. I can tell from Lindsey’s face that she knows I’m being very serious and that this is not the best topic for dinner conversation. 

 

Unfortunately, Mel isn’t as perceptive.

 

“Oh come on, Brian. I’m sure they taught you plenty about how to be a man. That‘s probably why you‘re so obsessed with the concept.” she says casually, taking a big bite out of her breadstick. 

 

 

--------------------------------------------------

Suddenly I swear I can hear something. I close my eyes momentarily.

 

“When I agreed to that you could stay for Mikey’s birthday, I assumed you’d act like a man while you were here. Now I come in here and find his head in your lap like --”

 

By sheer force of will and by practically biting through my tongue, I  open my eyes stop the flashback.

-----------------------------------------------------

 

I look around and it seems like only a moment has gone by. Thank god. I replay what Mel had said and go on, determined that no one know what happened.

 

“I’m not obsessed with anything except making sure my son has the best, and is the best he can be,” I correct her.

 

“Well, I hope he can live up to your standards of manhood,” she says, faintly smiling for some reason. 

 

“Gus has no obligation to meet my, or anyone else’s, standards. I only want him to meet his own standards as to who he wants to be,“ I say firmly. “I’m only trying to give him a foundation.”

 

Why do people think that their children should build their own lives around what their parents want? I hope Gus doesn’t grow up trying to please Lindsey and Mel.

 

“Seems to me that you love holding people up to your expectation--”

 

“Mel,” Lindsey warns in her sharpest voice. Mel stops and takes a bite into a breadstick. 

 

 

------------------------- Mel’s Perspective ---------------------------

I don’t know what has gotten into Brian when it comes to Gus. He acts like he’s campaigning for a Father of the Year award or something. The whole thing seems so phony considering how he usually is -- his arrogant, demeaning, sarcastic self that somehow Gus never sees. 

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Gus isn’t witnessing those behaviors . The last thing I need to deal with is a six year old with a smart mouth like Brian’s.  I just wish he would give me and Lindz some credit. He’s always acting like he thinks we do nothing for him, like all of Gus’ parenting is up to him alone. He only sees Gus once a week usually. 

 

Still, maybe I was a little harsh on him. He has been putting a lot of effort into his time with Gus, and even I’ll admit to being impressed. Gus adores him and I can see that he is the apple of Brian’s eye.

 

-------------------------------Lindsey’s Perspective -------------------------

 

Sometimes I wish  Mel would just shut up. She doesn’t know much about Brian’s past --- I mean, no one knows much, but she knows even less. But even that should be enough to just make her shut up. 

 

At least she’s gotten the point now. 

 

“She doesn’t mean anything by it, Brian,” I say when Mel excuses herself to the restroom. 

 

“Sure she doesn’t,” he says with a yawn. 

 

“Are you feeling alright?” He looks a little tired, but it might be the odd shadows cast by the flickering neon lights nearby.

 

“I’m fine, just having trouble sleeping this week,” he explains,  resting his head back against the chair. 

 

“You don’t look too well,” I say as I look closer. I’ve never seen bags under his eyes before.

 

“So I hear -- from everyone. Debbie, Ted, Cynthia. I’m just not sleeping, it’s no big deal. I’ve gone a lot longer on a lot less sleep, believe me.” Something in his voice sounds almost wary.

 

“I know you have…but are you sure that’s all it is? You sound…tired.” Now he’s rolling his eyes at me, but it’s nothing I didn’t expect.

 

“I sound tired? Gee, and I just said I haven’t been sleeping well. Thanks for putting two and two together,” he drawls sarcastically. 

 

“Fine. I’m just worried about you. It looked for a second there like you were somewhere else.” 

 

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about. I might wish I was somewhere else, by the end of this lovely evening, but I’m not. I’m here and I’m fine.”

 

I sigh. I wish he could just accept that people care about him. 

------------------------Brian’s Perspective ----------------------------

 

Later that night on my way back to the loft, I can’t help but wonder what the fuck is going on with me. 

Why have I been having these weird…involuntary memories? 

 

Only they’re not really like memories. Memories you sort of visualize, you can see them someplace in your mind. These fucking things take over my reality, taking me back to another time so that I can no longer see what is physically in front of my face.

 

I don’t know what this is, but I’m sick of it. Between that and how much I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night, it’s no wonder I’m not looking too good. I don’t know if  it’s those night terror things that doctor whoever-the-fuck told me about or what.

 

I’ve had nightmares in the past, but only maybe one  or two a year. This has been all week.

 

When I’m laying in bed that night, I find myself getting unnaturally nervous. I mean, I’m sure everything’s fine. If I could just tell someone,  talk about it a little, maybe then I could let it go, and it would stop.

 

I reach for the phone and dial Justin. 

 

------------------ Justin’s Perspective ---------------------------------

 

I’m not too surprised when I see Brian’s number on my screen. He’s been calling me a lot lately, around eleven, saying he’s going to bed. 

 

That in itself let me know that something unusual was going on. I’ve never known Brian to go to bed at eleven, much less a few days in a row. 

 

“Hey Brian, how was dinner with Gus and the family?” I’m so glad he’s been going out this week somewhere other than Babylon. I used to wonder if he knew that other places in Pittsburgh existed, outside of Liberty Avenue. 

 

“Oh, fine. Mel and I got into a little thing about teaching Gus to be a man.” He sounds really tired.

 

“Huh? What does she care about that? You’re an excellent father.” I’ve never understood what problems Mel has with Brian, or what she expects out of him. I think the whole topic bothers Brian more than he lets on. 

 

“I don’t know, the whole thing was just stupid as usual.” He sighs deeply.

 

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

 

He doesn’t answer me for a long time, considering what a simple question it is. 

 

“Yeah, I slept.”

 

“For more than two hours?” He’s hedging and I know it. I know him. He pauses. 

 

“Yeah, for your information, I slept for at least three hours. Even if I did --”

 

I give him about fifteen seconds but he doesn’t finish his sentence. 

 

“What happened?” I ask, wishing I was there. Wishing I was there to see his expression, to see if he could look at me. To see if he was fidgeting with something, if  -- 

 

“Nothing, just something like…” 

 

God this is ridiculous. All I have to go by is his voice. He was talking slow…like he was trying to give me time to think, to fill in the blank of his sentence with something I would know. 

 

“Something like before,” he says, emphasizing the last word, giving it obvious significance. 

 

“On the plane?” I ask, finally breaking his code.

 

He is silent for about ten seconds and when he answers I can tell he is making a big effort to sound casual. 

 

“I think so.”

 

I take a deep breath. I would do anything to be there right now. I know he wouldn’t really let me hold him -- but just if I could see him. Maybe put my hand on his shoulder. 

 

I try to piece this together. He thinks he’s having these…night terrors.

 

“Do you remember anything?” 

 

“Uh, no.” 

 

That took him way too long; that answer. He was obviously thinking…there must be something he does remember.

 

“You do remember something,” I say softly, as a statement of fact.

 

“Not…not really. It’s weird. I’m fine, though, just tired.” 

 

Uh huh, sure.

 

“What’s weird?”

 

“Nothing. Nothing. You know. I’m fine. Never mind,” he says, his voice actually sounding pretty casual this time. 

 

“You said yourself something was weird. What is it, Brian? Tell me, please,” I beg.

 

Another fifteen second pause. I look at my television. The sitcom couple are yelling at each other. How I long for such easy verbal conversation. 

 

“It’s just weird you know, that I don’t remember anything. I just wake up tense, sore, sweaty… But without remembering anything, no nightmare, nothing,” he finally admits.

 

Phew; that was exhausting. I gather my thoughts quickly.

 

“That is pretty strange. Have you tried sleeping on the couch or anything? Or maybe  smoking a little before bed?” 

 

These are the worst suggestions I have, but I know better than to suggest that psychologist guy to him on the phone. I can’t have that conversation with him where he can hang up and choose not to answer when I call back. So I stick with things that just possibly could help and which won’t freak him out.

 

He chuckles at the smoking suggestion; apparently that idea’s been done to death. 

 

“I’ll try the couch thing maybe,” he says. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore.

I don’t really blame him. 

 

“Call me if you need me,” I say, hoping he can tell how much I really mean that. 

 

“I will,” he says, then hangs up. 

 

He sounds so tired, and stressed. Tomorrow I’ll have to find out if everything’s alright at Kinnetik; maybe that’s what’s bothering him so much.

 

--------------------- Brian’s Point of View ---------------------------

 

I just couldn’t tell him about the flashbacks. I wanted to. I really, really did. But I didn’t really know where to start. What to say. “Hey, Justin, I’m having these weird memory things that take over my life for a few minutes, and they’re really scary.”

 

Yeah, right.

 

I wish.

 

Oh well. They’ll go away on their own; it’s probably just some freak thing. And it’s probably a good sign that I stopped that one today at the pizza place. 

 

I can control these on my own, if I just try hard enough.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“When I agreed to that you could stay for Mikey’s birthday, I assumed you’d act like a man while you were here. Now I come in here and find his head in your lap like --”


I’m sitting on Mikey’s living room floor, leaning against the couch. His head is in my lap; we’re eating popcorn and watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Jack has just barged through the front door of the house.


I must have jumped a foot in the air when he came in. My heart is pounding and my hands are gripping the popcorn bowl. Mikey is just looking at me for some clue as to what he should do.


“ like some fucking tramp. I bet you just wish he’d turn his head so he can fucking suck your horny little cock! Isn’t that right?” 


Michael blushes at that and Jack notices. 



“Oh, that’s what you both want!! Now I see what’s going on here. My faggot son is out advertising for the whole goddamned neighborhood!” 


“It’s a birthday party,” I say, still sitting on the floor while he towered above me. I hope that if I don’t move he can leave and it will be like this never happened.


“Well, I’m fucking sick of you peddling your ass around, always with excuses.” 


At this point Deb comes running in from downstairs, where she’d been doing laundry.


“What the hell are you doing here?” she demands, standing indignantly in front of my father, her hands on her hips.


“I’m here to fucking pick up my little faggot, that’s all. He’s coming home with me,” my father says, meeting Debbie’s eyes evenly.


“Don’t use that word in my house.” 


Jack just stares at her.


I’m terrified for her and I can’t take my eyes off of her. 


No one has ever tried to stand up for me before.


“Come on, Brian. We’re going home .”


He grabs my arm and yanks me, really, really hard. The pain radiating from my shoulder is indescribable. Mikey has fallen off my lap to the floor. 


I’m screaming as the white-hot pain eclipses even what I’ve grown accustomed to handling. 


“What the fuck did you do to him?” Debbie is screaming at my father and trying to get to me.

My father is blocking her, though.  


Mikey is crying, tears streaming down his face. 


“I’ll fucking call the cops on you right now --” Debbie threatens.


“I’ll take him to my sister’s, she’s a nurse,” I hear my father say. He’s never offered for Aunt Sandy to see anything else he’s done to me.


“You better, you fucking asshole -- he needs to go to the hospital,” she  says, right in his face. 


The next thing I know I’m in the backseat of the car, laying flat. My world fades to black. I learn later that it’s because I passed out from the pain, because the bastard dislocated my shoulder. 

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

 

I sit up in bed in a full-fledged panic. My heart is hammering in my chest.

 

 I look around me frantically, but all I see is the shadowed outlines of my loft.

 

Oh my god. 

 

Now that I remember.

 

I’m ready to go back to the not remembering now.  

 

I swallow hard. My throat is so dry. 

 

I flip on a light and go into the kitchen, splashing so much water on myself it’s practically a shower.

 

Then I drink a glass of water. 

 

Then I drink one of Beam.

 

When my head clears a little, I glance at the clock.

 

3AM. 

 

I guess it’s time to get ahead on that Sudsy Soap account, because I’m sure as hell not going back to sleep tonight. 

 

Chapter End Notes:

Whew...so there was my attempt at the Mel/Linds, Linds/Brian and, especially,  Brian/Mel dynamic... 

I can't tell if his conversation with Mel came out the way I wanted -- I changed it a few times and settled on this; I hope it makes sense and rings true. 

Also -- I'm sorry that the Gus scene was so short. There'll be plenty more where he'll get more attention (and maybe more JR but that might be tough ;). 

Thanks again to all those who read, and especially those who review. I know I say it all the time but it's true; it thrills me to know that my story has any impact on someone, that it means something or gives a smile. So thanks!!! And keep it coming! ;)

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