Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

Liberty Diner – Sunday Morning

"One more gripe about your flat pancakes and your ass is going to be flat on the fucking floor!"

Michael chuckled at his mother's familiar banter as he entered the diner; it was only when he didn't hear her sarcastic quips that he knew something was wrong. Of course, since one of her other long-lost "sons" had magically reappeared from the dead a couple of days ago, everything seemed right with the world again. He only wished he could be sure that Brian presently felt the same way. He had been encouraged to see the dramatic change in his best friend – his eyes were no longer carrying the same flat, lost, and tragic look from before, and his face no longer possessed the haunted, sleepless expression. He at least had hope back in his life, now that Justin had returned. Michael still couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that seemed to settle upon him, however; he only prayed that he would turn out to be wrong, for both Brian and Justin's sakes.

He was so wrapped up in his thought that he didn't notice a familiar face sitting nearby. "Michael!" He turned at the boisterous sound of his name to look over at the counter to spy Emmett, who was waving at him furiously. "Get OVER here!" his friend commanded him. "Just where have you been keeping yourself, Dumpling?" the flamboyant friend chided him. "I thought Ben let you out to mingle with the rest of us boys every once in a while, at least."

His face red with embarrassment at the mention of his pseudo fairy name, Michael walked hurriedly up to the counter and took an adjacent stool as he noticed other guys nearby snickering at the endearment. "Em," he whispered, leaning over closely in a mock display of irritation, "Will you can the fucking Dumpling crap? I had a hard enough time living down the day you dressed me in drag for the Pride Parade," he cracked, even though he had to admit, he had actually made one pretty hot broad. And giving that asshole co-worker of his a big, fat kiss while he was dressed up was the icing on the cake. He looked over at Emmett and shook his head in resignation. There was no way that he could really be mad at his friend; nobody could really stay aggravated at Emmett for long – the man so seldom took anything seriously that he always made Michael smile. He decided he could use some of that right about now to get his mind off Brian's situation.

"I couldn't help myself," Emmett announced dramatically. "Clear Day just came back from channeling his inner self once again," he told his friend with a smile as he swept an imaginary long swipe of his hair Cher-like off his shoulder.

"Oh, no," Michael answered with a knowing smile. "Don't tell me you went back to that fairy paradise again?" he groaned.

"Why, yes I did," Emmett verified proudly. "Clear Day was born again, much to the delight of every fairy there. I definitely was the best-dressed queer there. Even got an award for it," he bragged.

"What – some wig shampoo and a magic wand?" Michael asked facetiously.

Em snorted. "Hardly….I'll have you know I received an autographed copy of Ru Paul's latest book: Don't Let Life Be a Drag."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Oh, brother," he quipped. "I'm so sorry I couldn't attend. I'm jealous. That definitely doesn't compare with a quiet dinner at home with Ben and watching a movie at home..alone…with no Hunter…..no Jenny Rebecca…." His face took on a dreamy look as he sighed, "Don't get me wrong, Em, I love both the kids – but a little down time with Ben is sooooooo nice once in a while."

Emmett smirked. "I wouldn't know, Honey…I was so excited when Drewsie and I got back together, but since we did, he's been away at football camp. Why the hell do they need to camp out to play football anyway?" he asked, puzzled, as Michael laughed. Emmett knew every fashion maven from her to L.A., but obviously his friend had a long way to go before he completely understood the intricacies of football.

"Hey, Boys!" Debbie rushed up to the two men, reaching over to place a red lipstick stain on Michael's cheek with a resounding smack and to tousle Emmett's hair. Emmett noticed if it was possible, Debbie seemed even more upbeat that she normally did, which was saying a lot for her. "Gee, Deb, you sure seem to be in a great mood," he observed, smiling.

"You bet your ass!" she practically screamed, laughing boisterously.

Emmett couldn't help smiling back at her in return, although he didn't have a clue what she was so happy about. He was extremely curious, however; this was over the top, even for Debbie. "What's got you so excited, Deb?" he wondered. "Are you and Carl finally tying the knot?"

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder as if he was joshing her. "Oh, come on, Emmett," she chided him, smiling. "I've got my Sunshine back! Why do you THINK I'm smiling, huh? Isn't it just fucking unbelievable?" she asked him, still somewhat incredulous herself even a few days after her discovery. It was so wonderful to know that the boy she had literally watch grow up from a teeny bopper kid with a king-sized crush on Brian into a mature, passionate, kind young man that she loved as much as her own son was alilve. She shook her head at the miracle, still beaming at the thought.

Emmett looked at her and then Michael, who seemed to have the same look, although his expression appeared to be more subdued. He frowned in total confusion. "Uh…..pardon me, Deb, but what the hell are you talking about?" he demanded. Somehow he didn't think she was discussing the weather.

A light bulb went off in Michael's head before his mother had a chance to respond "Oh, my God," Michael blurted out, clapping his hand over his mouth as a sudden epiphany of understanding assaulted him. "You don't know." It was a statement, not a question. He looked up at his mother, who by the look on her face was quickly reaching the same conclusion. "About Justin. You don't know, do you?" In the confusion and stunned revelations of the past few days, he had somehow automatically assumed that all of Justin's friends had been told. At least the ones that had been in town.

Emmett shook his head as if his friend was daft. "Know what?" he asked him. An odd look, a flicker of understanding passed between Michael and his mom before Debbie nodded her head in encouragement and Michael began, "Well, hold onto your fairy dust, Clear Day. Dumpling here is about to tell you something that will definitely qualify as a fairy tale."


Sunday Morning – An Hour Later; Brian's Loft

As the sun's harsh mid-morning rays poured unforgiving through the tall windows of the loft, Brian lay in bed on his back, briefly squinting his eyes shut against the intrusion; his arm instinctively reached over to reassure himself that his partner was still in their bed and to cradle the soft body against his. As he came up instead with an empty sheet and a cool mattress, he immediately came awake, turning onto his side to confirm Justin wasn't there. A brief flash of panic set in as he sat up and looked around the loft; only after he finally spied his partner over at the couch did his breathing return entirely back to normal.

He rose, clad only in his briefs, to silently walk down the bedroom step toward the living room and stop a few paces from the couch to observe Justin unobtrusively. His partner, who was not only awake but already dressed, had his back to him, his legs pulled up on the seat with his arms folded over his knees and his head lying on his hands as he looked out the windows pensively to the city waking up outside. Brian's heart broke a little as he heard a soft, plaintive sigh escape the blond's lips; he never could stand it when he thought his partner was hurting.

Justin gazed sorrowfully out the window; he was trying so hard not to feel sorry for himself – he knew his mother and his friends had all suffered a great deal in the last couple of weeks after they had thought he was dead, Brian most of all; was he being selfish, then, to grieve for what he had lost, too? He jumped slightly as he felt a pair of strong arms slide down his chest and Brian's head nuzzle his neck affectionately. "Stop that," he chided him softly, his breath fanning Justin's chin like a caress.

Justin turned his head just enough to gaze into the hazel orbs staring back at him intently. "Stop what?" he whispered back, not able to take his eyes away from the other man's piercing gaze. He really didn't have to ask what his partner meant, however; it was written clearly on his face by the frown and intense, disapproving look.

"Stop wallowing in pity and sorrow," Brian told him flatly without preamble. "What's done is done, Sunshine. We can't go back and take the fucking accident away. Life doesn't make promises and it's not always fair. We have to play the hand we're dealt."

Justin unexpectedly freed himself from Brian's loose embrace to stand up and confront him. "What a bunch of philosophical bullshit!" he retorted, shaking his head angrily.

"What do you mean?" Brian asked him, surprised by the vehement outburst. He watched as Justin walked toward the window and stood there with his back to him for a few seconds, as if he were collecting his thoughts. He finally turned around to face the brunet, his face a picture of frustration and vexation, the familiar, light blue eyes flashing a look of impatience.

"How long, Brian? How long do we give it? Tomorrow, next week, next month – hell, next year? TELL ME honestly that you're willing to wait that long!"

Brian placed his hands on the back of the couch to brace himself; where did this come from? "I thought we discussed this last night, Justin," he responded quietly. "I thought we had decided to see what Dr. Keller had to say on Monday." What had changed?

Justin closed his eyes briefly, his face shadowed in pain. "It's been two weeks, Brian. You want to know the extent of what I've remembered in those two weeks? A little boy that looks like you that calls me Poppa. You and me – here in the loft and at….." He struggled to remember the name until it came to him. "At Britin. Being at Babylon…. and that horrible, horrible bombing there." He held out his hands, palms up. "There….That's it, Brian! The extent of my 23 years of life! No matter how hard I try, I can't remember where I grew up, where I went to school, who my friends are, what I like to eat, even my best friend that I'm supposed to have known for years! Hell, I can't even remember my own mother! I go to bed each night and think – this is going to be the night. This is going to be the night that I wake up and somehow remember." Justin emitted another long, disgusted sigh and turned back to peer out over the windows. "I look down at the street below – the street I've no doubt walked on more times that I should be able to count by now. And it means nothing to me – absolutely, fucking nothing." He cradled his left hand in his right one. "I'm surprised I even remember how to paint." He peered down at his hands. "Maybe I should've just smashed both hands and been done with it or just stayed dead in Harrisburg."

Justin didn't hear Brian approaching him until he felt the brunet's arm roughly spin him around to face him; his skin paled and he actually shrunk back from his partner's face that was contorted with rage as Brian grabbed his upper arms tightly; two weeks of pent-up pain, misery and desolation had reached their culmination at last. "Don't you ever say that again, Justin!" he yelled, his dark eyes flashing with fury as his long fingers dug into the sensitive, pale flesh. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Don't you ever talk that way again! Your art is everything to you! It's who you are! And do you know what I've been through the past two weeks, thinking you were dead? That I…I would never see you again? Do you have any fucking idea how it's felt – how I felt that night thinking you were coming home for good so we could be finally be together, and then the next day having my heart ripped out of my fucking chest finding out you were dead?" Brian's voice cracked as he continued in a slightly lower voice, his words choked with emotion as he stared daggers at his partner; if Justin only knew what it took for him to even be standing there, exposing his emotions to him; there had been a time not so long ago that he would have never allowed himself to even think these kinds of thoughts, let alone utter the words that he was now saying out loud. "Do you, Justin? Do you really know? God, don't you ever say anything like that ever again – do you understand me? When Justin didn't answer him, he shook him urgently by the upper arms. "Answer me, Justin!" he demanded crossly.

Time stood still as Brian continued to grasp his partner's arms in a vise-like grip; his breathing came out in angry, rapid gusts of air as Justin stood there, his face ashen and riddled with guilt over only thinking of himself and what pain he had been through; he knew Brian must have been deeply affected over his apparent death, but until now he realized he hadn't fully understood the depth of his pain. How could he have been so fucking selfish? His eyes filled quickly with tears, the drops forming a glistening path down his cheeks as he closed his eyes to avoid seeing the anguish written on his partner's face. "I'm…..sorry, Brian," he whispered, his voice cracking as he finally opened his eyes to stare into hazel ones mirroring his own pain. "I…wasn't thinking," he answered helplessly. He brought his hands up to his face to cover his guilt-laden eyes, unable any more to look at his partner's face. He finally understood; the feelings that Brian had suppressed since they had been reunited in Harrisburg had finally been brought out into the open, like a scab that had not quite covered over the scar. "God," he choked back a cry. "I…..didn't realize," he replied, his soft voice barely audible. "I didn't realize how much we meant to each other. I thought I did…but now I realize I didn't; not really."

Brian felt the slender body trembling in his arms as he continued to hold onto to him roughly. The intensity and depth of his feelings for this man both elated and scared the hell out of him. And to hear Justin declare his life was worth nothing, was worth throwing away, was too much to contemplate. However, as he stared at his partner's face now, remorseful and yet still so haunting in its beauty, his fury quickly slithered away as if it were some type of unwelcome guest. He took a deep breath, his heart still pounding chiefly on adrenaline, as his face slowly softened; now he was the one who was remorseful. He wasn't sorry for making sure Justin knew how he felt about him, but the last thing he would ever want to do was scare his partner or make him afraid to admit his feelings to him.

He abruptly realized how tightly he was holding onto the blond's arms; even though they would no doubt result in angry, red bruises on his pale skin, Justin hadn't uttered so much as a whimper as he had inflicted them. He bit back a horrified thought that he had someone melded into an image of his father producing the same type of bruises on him before he deliberately vanquished those thoughts; if anything, Justin had taught him that he could never be the abusive, controlling and manipulative prick that had only held the title of father as a nameless shell only. But that still did little to tamper the ugly thoughts from entering his mind before he quickly released his hold on his partner's arms.

"I know," Brian whispered softly now. "I know," he murmured soothingly. "Come here," he beseeched him; Justin willingly allowed himself to be pulled into his arms to wrap him in a protective cocoon of warmth. He stroked his partner's back slowly, reassuringly now as he rested his head on top of the soft, blond hair. "We will get through this, Justin. Not sure how or when – but we WILL." He didn't hear an audible reply from the blond except for another sigh – one full of longing and sorrow mixed in with what Brian hoped was at least a little optimism.

The couple stood there for several minutes, Brian slowly rubbing Justin's back while his partner's arms wrapped themselves around his waist. How many times had they stood here, in this loft, in much the same manner? And why did it seem like whenever they did, it was to always say goodbye? Well, this time, damn it, it was going to be different; Justin wasn't going anywhere without HIM. He pulled Justin back enough to gaze into the blue eyes that stared back at him, full of perhaps not quite love yet, but at least some modicum of admiration, trust and affection; for now that would have to do. He reached up to cup the familiar face in his hands before he leaned down to bestow a somewhat chaste kiss on his partner's lips; he was comforted to note that Justin did not pull away, but rather seemed to welcome the action as his mouth moved across his in their sweet, familiar dance.

With some reluctance, Brian pulled back after a few seconds and placed his hands, gently this time, on Justin's arms. Having come to a rather spontaneous decision, he asked his partner, "I'll tell you what, Sunshine. How would you like a motor tour version of Justin Taylor – This is Your Life from my luxurious coach on wheels?"

Justin's eyes actually lit up as he asked hopefully, "You mean….you'd would take me to the places I'm familiar with?"

"Yeah," Brian verified, smiling slightly. "I'll drive you around to all your old haunts and point them out to you." He suddenly thought of an inspiration. "I can even drive us out to Britin," he suggested. "You haven't been there yet and it just might help you to see it. I know you told me you've had quite a few dreams that took place there."

Justin's heart leaped at the thought; he had recalled so many instances of him and Brian there that maybe, just maybe it might trigger something. At the very least, he was anxious to see the magnificent residence where Brian had proposed to him and where they had made love so many times afterward, seemingly in every crevice of the place. "I'd like that," he told his partner gratefully; at this point he would be willing to do anything as long as it got him out of the loft where, except for the brief trip to Babylon, he had felt like a virtual prisoner since they had returned.

"Good," Brian answered; to him, this seemed like an excellent compromise between Justin wanting to see and do everything at once to Brian wanting, instead, to play it safe for his health's sake. "Well, I'll go grab a shower and get dressed so we can go," he told Justin as the two disengaged from their embrace.

As Brian turned to go, he stopped as he heard Justin calling his name. "What?" he asked the blond, puzzled; was there some other concern they hadn't addressed yet?

"Nothing," Justin told him to reassure him he wasn't going to queen out on him again. "I just wanted to say that …I don't think art was everything to me. If it had been, I wouldn't have been coming back here. I think you were."

Brian swallowed the lump that instantly appeared in his throat. It was amazing how perceptive his partner could be, especially considering his present condition. "So were you," Brian whispered to him wistfully. "You still are," he added softly; their eyes met across the room before he turned toward the shower, leaving Justin standing there, his mind a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts and emotions.


Brian emerged from the shower, a blood-red Egyptian towel slung low over his hips. He knew it was probably a pipe dream, but while he was in the shower he had actually retained the hope that Justin might somehow decide to join him. Of course, if he had, he would not have been able to keep from fucking his partner senseless to partially make up for several weeks of deprivation from his favorite activity and with the only man who ever currently participated with him in it; they had long ago made a commitment to be monogamous, and even though it was practically killing him to be so close to his partner in bed and not be able to touch him the way he would like to, he was determined to keep their commitment. The only think he could hope for was that when they did make love again, it would be that much hotter and that much sweeter; it was the only hope that kept him from going fucking insane with desire whenever he got within an inch of Justin. The ache inside him, however, just wouldn't go away – just the smell of him, the touch of him, and the small tastes of him his partner had allowed occasionally – it was almost harder than not touching him at all. He quickly dismissed that thought, however, because the alternative he had before of never seeing him again was much too hard to bear. For now, he would just have to fucking cope with it until the situation improved. And it HAD to improve – there was no only option as far as he was concerned. He just hoped it was sooner rather than later.

His impatience spurred him to quickly drop his towel on the bedroom floor and get dressed into a pair of worn, comfortable jeans and a sleeveless, black shirt; his typical attire for when he didn't have to work and wanted to relax. He also hoped that it would make Justin more at ease somehow. Thoughts of his partner made him search the blond out, who he discovered was standing by the windows again, looking out onto the street, perhaps hoping that some activity out there would somehow restart his memory. How I wish it was that easy, Sunshine, he lamented, taking just a sliver of time to feel sorry for himself before he quickly squelched it and walked down the bedroom step to reunite with his partner.

Justin turned at the sound of Brian's approach. "Ready to go, Justin?" the brunet asked him with a slight smile. Justin nodded and accepted Brian's outstretched hand readily, as Brian gave it a small squeeze and pulled him gently to him. As Brian placed their intertwined hands on his chest, he whispered, "Justin Taylor…..This is your life." He took the luxury of reaching the long-fingered, pale hand up to his lips to give it a small kiss before he added, "Let's get started reliving it, okay?"

Justin smiled in agreement, relieved to finally be getting out of the loft again. He was also very excited as well as nervous to take a look at all of the places Brian would show him in hopes that something, somehow, would make a connection with him.

They had almost neared the door to slide it open when they both jumped slightly at the sound of the buzzer signaling a visitor downstairs. Justin quirked an eyebrow at Brian, who shrugged. "I wasn't expecting anyone," he replied in response to Justin's silent question. Brian hoped whoever it was wasn't some fucking reporter who had somehow found out about Justin's phoenix-like rise from the ashes. "Who is it?" he asked curtly with just a hint of suspicion; there was no way he was letting just anyone into the loft unannounced without finding out their intentions beforehand.

A breaking voice filled with emotion choked out, "It's Emmett. Is it true?" He asked simply; he knew if it was, he didn't have to explain any further as he held his breath for Brian's reply.

Brian cringed; deep down if he had to admit it he actually liked Emmett in a strange way; the man could definitely get on his nerves, and he was usually much too emotional for Brian's taste, but he had to confess – the man cared about his friends and was fiercely loyal to them. And one of the friends he had always been deeply loyal to – and cared a great deal about – was Justin. Deciding that it was time to light one more candle on Justin's birthday cake of experiences, he simply said, "Come on up."

"Emmett," Justin murmured. He recalled the man's name from some prior references to him by both Brian and Michael; he remembered enough to know that this was one more friend of his that he had apparently known for several years. He felt a little pang of disappointment, however, at the realization that the name really didn't mean anything to him beyond what little he had heard from the others. He turned to Brian as he felt his partner lightly squeeze his upper arm for attention. He looked at him questioningly as he heard the elevator making its slow ascent up to their floor with its passenger.

"Just be warned, Justin. This man is a nelly queen. He's going to be a fucking mess when he sees you," he cautioned him. "You might want to stand back," he quipped as Justin smiled in amusement at the apparent exaggeration.

"You just think I'm kidding," Brian admonished him ominously. "You obviously, then, definitely don't remember him." Justin frowned; was the man that over the top? He was about to find out, because there was suddenly a loud, rapid knocking on the heavy metal door.

Brian turned and gave his partner one more warning glance before he threw back the door to reveal a tall, brown-haired man standing there; Justin's eyes opened wider as he noted the bright raspberry-pink, spandex shirt the man was wearing atop a pair of cranberry-colored leather pants. A heavy, double-stranded golden chain hung from his neck to match the metal belt encircling his waist. Despite the man's flashy appearance, however, Justin was most fascinated by the man's reaction to him; as soon as Emmett had honed in on his presence, the man's expression had quickly changed from one of impatient anticipation to one of unadulterated rapture.

Emmett's blue eyes quickly filled with tears as he clapped his hand over his mouth in shock as well as happiness at this unbelievable moment; a moment he had never, ever in a million years thought would be possible again. "Oh, my God, Baby," he cooed, his voice choked with joy. "It's….it's…" For once he found himself speechless; he couldn't come up with the right words to say how it felt at that instant to know that his adorable, full-of-life friend that he had grown to love for his enthusiasm and zest for life was here, in the same room as him, alive and relatively well. His voice died out as he struggled for the appropriate words and his feet kept him glued in the doorway until Brian finally muttered, "Well, are you coming in or not? He's not going to disappear into thin air, if that's what you're worried about."

That was all the incentive Emmett needed to break his spell of paralysis and abruptly rush into the loft to scoop a startled Justin up into his arms into a type of aerial bear hug; Emmett whooped as he twirled Justin around in a circle and jiggled him up and down slightly. "You're really here!" he cried in jubilation, rejoicing in feeling the warm, firm body holding onto him tenuously as he continued to swing Justin around enthusiastically. "Oh, my God, Baby, you really are!" Now that Emmett had Justin captured in his grasp, he knew without a doubt that he was definitely not a figment of his hopeful imagination; the man was truly without a doubt very much alive.

"Emmett!" he heard a warning shout from Brian. "Put him down!" Brian growled. "Are you trying to put him back in the fucking hospital?" Emmett sheepishly lowered Justin gently to the ground but did not release him completely; it was as if he still had to touch him to make sure he was real. "Sweetie, I'm so happy," he sobbed out, the tears shining unbidden from his eyes. "When Michael told me...I just couldn't believe it," he continued to babble. "It's…it's a miracle, that's what it is," he decided resolutely as he smiled through his tears. "A miracle," he repeated softly as he shook his head, stunned.

Brian stared intently at his partner, making sure he wasn't coming unglued by his much-too-emotional, wear-his-heart-on-his-sleeve friend. He silently remembered to "thank" Michael the next time he saw him for springing this man on Justin so unexpectedly. To Brian's relief, however, Justin didn't seem intimidated or frightened by Emmett's overly demonstrative reaction; rather, he was smiling clearly in amusement at his friend, even though Brian suspected Justin still didn't really have any idea who – or what – this man WAS. Whether he remembered him or not, however, Justin was obviously taken with the man. Maybe somehow on a subconscious level Justin knew this man was a friend to him, even if he didn't actually remember him intellectually, just as if he knew instinctively that he could trust Brian when he brought him back to Pittsburgh.

"I hate to break up this tender reunion," Brian interjected, as he placed his hands between the two men, not too differently than when he had detached a young, persistent blond twink from two suitors at Babylon right after they had first met. "But Justin and I were just about to go out on another trip down Memory Lane. I'll bring him over to the diner sometime next week and you can continue your little tete a tete then," he offered generously with just a hint of sarcasm as he reached over gently to untangle his partner from the other man's grasp.

Justin looked over at Emmett somewhat apologetically. "I'd really like to sit down and talk with you some more, Emmett," he told his friend sincerely, who smiled at him, so happy that he was back in town and simply alive. His friend would come back 100 percent whole and better than ever – Emmett was sure of that. "You can count on it, Baby," he purred happily. "You can count on it." He clapped his hands together softly. "I'm….just so happy," he cried emotionally. "It's…..so wonderful. Like a magnificent dream," he declared sentimentally. He decided his friend's return to the living was more wonderful than even Barbara Streisand's comeback tour.

He slowly backed out of Brian's loft to leave, keeping his face turned toward his friend, his expression one of heartfelt gratitude and joy. He gave Justin a small wave just before his back unceremoniously hit Brian's heavy metal door with a loud thud; he had been so swept up in the vision of his long-feared dead friend's miraculous return that he hadn't even noticed when Brian had shut the door back. "Oomph!" he cried out as the wind was knocked from his lungs unexpectedly.

Justin laughed softly in delight; this man was like a breath of fresh air after all the heavy melodrama he and Brian had endured in the past two weeks. He was disappointed to realize that he didn't recall anything about this man, but right then he didn't care; even if he had to get to know him all over again, it would be worth it. This man was unique and followed his own drummer; Justin couldn't wait to become a member of his band of friends again.

"Take good care of my baby, Mr. Kinney," Emmett chided the brunet, who simply glared at him. "See you soon, Sweetie," Emmett chirped, as he finally pirouetted around and opened the door to exit with a little wave of his hand in the air.

As he walked out of their sight, Brian let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God Hurricane Emmett is gone," he growled. "That man needs to take Valium on a 24-hour basis," he declared. He turned to look at Justin, who was actually smiling broadly. "What is so amusing?" he asked his partner in wonder. This was the first time he could really recall any sign at all of the mesmerizing smile his partner was renowned for; he hadn't realized until then just how much he had missed that. He fervently hoped he would see a lot more of that in the future.

Justin smirked. "Emmett," he replied simply, still smiling. "He's…...funny. I LIKE him," he decided. "He's quite a character, isn't he?"

"No shit," Brian snarled; that was certainly an understatement. But in truth, though, he couldn't be mad at Honeycutt; the man had done something that few lately had been able to do – make his partner laugh, despite his ongoing worries about his future – about their future; anyone who could lighten Justin's burden right now was all right in his book. "I'm glad he entertained you," he cracked, as Justin twisted his mouth at him. "Now why don't we get out of here before someone else in your fan club shows up?"

He reached over to grab his partner's light jacket that always seemed to be slung over a chair nearby; Brian noted with a snort that the man's clothes were still being thrown around haphazardly even though Justin had no clue he was repeating his past behavior, at least not overtly, anyway. He liked to think it was his partner's brain crying to reintroduce itself; it somehow gave him a comforting feeling to look at it that way.

Justin quickly doffed the proffered jacket; he was anxious to get out and discover more about his life – his life and this man's standing next to him. Because no matter where they went here in Pittsburgh, something told him both of their lives were permanently intertwined, not only before but for years to come. As they walked out of the loft toward the elevators, Justin again reached to grasp Brian's hand in reassurance that whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

You must login (register) to review.