Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

 


CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX


 


BRIAN


 


The sound of the Loft door sliding back is probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.  I leap to my feet.


 


Justin stands just inside, unwinding his scarf.  He looks nervous.


 


I don’t give myself time to wonder if that’s something I should be worrying about; I stride over and wrap my arms around him.  To my relief he responds, and we stand holding each other while my heart rate drops back to normal.


 


“You okay?”  I push back his hair, checking the white dressing taped above his left eyebrow.  No sign of blood.  “I was so fucking worried about you ...”


 


He nods.  “I know.  I’m sorry.  I just had some things I had to work out, and I couldn’t do it with everyone around ... I needed to be on my own for a while.”


 


Uh.  I feel that old familiar tightness in my chest, because I’ve heard those words too many times before, and they’ve never boded well for either of us.  “So you went to Britin?”


 


He nods.  “I wanted to see the studio.”  He pulls away from me so that he can shrug off his coat.  “There’s nothing left, Brian ... the stables, too.”


 


“I know.  Boot told me.” 


 


He stands fiddling with his coat, so I take it from him and toss it over the nearest chair, then turn and rest my arms on his shoulders.  “What’s up, Sunshine?”


 


“Before I went to Britin, I went to the cemetery.  I took some flowers for Mom ... I needed to see her, too.”


 


Fuck.  Of course he did.  Why the hell hadn’t I thought of that?  Sometimes I guess I forget just how young he is.


 


“Brian ... we have to talk.”


 


Oh God.  Oh God.  Please don’t let him drop this on me, not now.  I’m not sure I can stand any more emotional shit, not after Gus.  But if I’ve learnt anything over the last few years, it’s that burying my head in the sand and hoping it will all go away has never been the answer to anything, so I take his hand and lead him to the couch, tugging him down beside me.  “Okay, Sunshine.  Tell me what’s bothering you, and we’ll work out what to do about it.”


 


He looks at me with accusing blue eyes.  “How could you think I wouldn’t want Gus around?”


 


Fucking Boot.   But at least he’s cutting straight to the chase.  I return his gaze.  “Maybe because you told me you didn’t want kids.”


 


“No, I don’t.  But Gus isn’t a baby, it’s not like he needs his diapers changing every couple of hours.  And I guess he’ll be living with Mel most of the time, so it’s not like you’ll have to be a 24/7 father.  But even if you were, do you really think it would make any difference?  This isn’t his fault, or yours ... I can’t believe you think that I’d leave you to deal with this by yourself!  Just how selfish do you think I am?”


 


“I know that you’re not, and that’s why I’m concerned.  I wouldn’t want you to feel you had to take him on because of me.”  I clasp his neck with my left hand.  “I can’t blame you if you’re having doubts ... anyone would.  Fuck, I’m enough for you to handle without having a kid in tow.”


 


“Don’t!” he snaps, swatting me away.  “Don’t you dare try to twist it round, Brian, so that you can justify yourself by making it seem like you’re doing me a favour!”


 


I stare at him, completely confounded.  “Don’t do what?”


 


“Whatever you’re planning in that devious mind of yours.  Whatever cliff you’re planning to hurl me off this time.  Because I’m not fucking going!”


 


He’s not going.  He’s not going?  I look into his eyes and see nothing but steely determination.  “I thought you’d already gone!  What the fuck else was I supposed to think?  You left hospital without a word ... you didn’t even bother to leave me a fucking message!”


 


He drops his eyes.  “Yeah.  That was pretty selfish.  But I was hurt ... and mixed up, I guess.  I was angry that you were making my decisions again for me, after all you promised.”


 


I gape at him.  “When?”


 


“In the studio, when you told Boot to get me out.  I wanted to stay and help you, but you didn’t give me the chance.”


 


“Fuck, Justin!”  For such a bright boy he can be such a little twat sometimes.  I’d be pissed if I wasn’t ecstatic that he’s not planning on leaving anytime soon.  “Is that what the silent treatment was about?  Have you any idea how I felt coming through that door, seeing flames everywhere and you in the middle of it with blood all over your face?  Knowing you were hurt again?  All I could think about was getting you out safe, not ruffling your feelings!”


 


He has the grace to look sheepish.  “I know.  Boot and I had a long talk.  And I’m sorry for acting like an idiot, and worrying you, and not even thinking about you having to deal with Gus and everything.  Is he okay?”


 


“He’s been better.”


 


He sighs.  “Brian, I was wrong.  I shouldn’t have just taken off like that, I admit it.”  His eyes spark again.  “But that doesn’t give you the right to act like an idiot as well!  You’ve got to believe me when I say Gus isn’t a problem for me.  I love the little guy, and I don’t mind how much time he spends with us.  So please, just don’t do anything stupid about it because it won’t work!  I’m not running away again, whatever you do.  So just don’t put us through all that fucking crap again, okay?”


 


“Justin ...” I run my hand through my hair.  “I thought we’d got beyond this.  I promised, didn’t I?”  I cautiously touch his thigh, half expecting him to bat me away again.  I’m relieved when he doesn’t.  “I’m not planning anything ... I swear to you the only thing on my mind was how I was gong to persuade you to stay if you’d made up your mind to leave.  I was going to tell you that whatever concerns you had, we could work them out ... that I was willing to do whatever it took ... anything in my power ... to make this a viable situation for you.” 


 


His eyes are wide and wondering.  “You were?”


 


“Yes, twat.”  I reach for his neck again and lean my forehead against his.  “I’m not letting you go ... I told you that.  Seems you didn’t believe me.”


 


He scrunches his face adorably.  “Old habits, I guess.”


 


“Die hard.  Yeah, I know.”  I pull him close again, needing contact.  “But they will die, Sunshine, eventually.  If we give it long enough, and trust each other.”


 


His breath is warm against my cheek.  “That’s what Boot said.”


 


“He did, huh?”


 


He nods.  “He also said he understood why we’d been together so long, because nobody else would put up with us.”


 


 I laugh.  “He’s not wrong.”


 


And he said we should learn to communicate like normal people, because he might not always be around to knock our heads together.”


 


“Boot is one smart mother-fucker.”


 


“I know.”  He laughs.  “I told you ... we talked a lot.  We went back to his place so he could change, and ...”  He glances up at me, his face suddenly lightening.  “Brian, can you keep a secret?”


 


“Excuse me?”  I’m insulted.


 


“No, this is really a secret.  He doesn’t want other people to know, but you’re not other people.”  His eyes are sparkling.  “Boot’s met the Queen!”


 


“I’ve met a few myself.”


 


“No, Brian!”  He wacks my arm.  “The Queen!  As in Elizabeth the Queen of England Queen!  I saw a photograph of him at Buckingham Palace!” 


 


I grin.  I half expect him to squee with delight.  “No shit?  What, did she give him a medal?”


 


“No.  He said it was because he’d won a belt, or something.”


 


“What, as a boxer?”


 


“Yeah.  There was a photo of him holding it.  He said it was a ... London Belt or something.”


 


“Lonsdale?  A Lonsdale Belt?”


 


“Yeah, that was it.”


 


“Wow.” 


 


“So what is it?” Justin asks.  “I could tell it was something big, the way Boot said it.  And you look like you just shook hands with Patrick Swayze.”


 


“It’s not that big, actually, but it’s very prestigious, especially in England.  You know about Belts in boxing, right?  Like the one they give the World Champion?”


 


He rolls his eyes.  “Yes.  Even I know that.”


 


“Well, they award a Belt for every weight at national level too.  In England, it’s called the Lonsdale Belt... and if you defend your title twice successfully, you get to keep it.  So Boot must have been British Heavyweight Champion before he had to give up fighting.”  I’m impressed; I hadn’t realised Boot had been in that sort of league.  I wonder if I can get a look at it?


 


“Oh my God,” Justin says faintly.  I pull back and study his face; he’s not smiling anymore; he looks sick.  “Oh my God ... and I insulted him!”


 


I raise my eyebrows.


 


“Brian ... do you realise I called an ex-British Heavyweight Champion a coward ... and a liar?  And... and I accused him of selling out to you.  Oh my God.”  He’s panicking.


 


Uh huh.  I stare at him.  “Then you’re a fucking braver man than I, Gunga Din.”


 


He wacks me again.  “That so isn’t funny!”  He jumps up and begins to pace distractedly.  “I mean, he took it pretty well ... except for the liar bit ... and we shook hands and everything.  But even so...” He stops dead.  “And now I’ve told you about the Queen!  Oh my God.  He really will kill me.”


 


“Justin, calm down.”  I struggle not to smile.  “Come and sit here and tell me why the fuck you would say something like that to Boot?  What the hell were you thinking?”


 


He flops beside me and looks at me despairingly.  “I wasn’t!  I was upset!  I called him a coward because he left you alone in the studio, and I thought he only did it because Lindsay said you’d hired him to look after me, and then when he denied it, I called him a liar!”


 


I figure he probably just used up a few more of his lives.  “Think yourself lucky Boot isn’t the kind of guy to hit someone so monumentally smaller than he is.”  I can feel the laughter building and press my lips together desperately.


 


“You think I don’t?”  He chews his thumb doubtfully.  “I just hope he can forgive me.”


 


“If he says he does, he does,” I reassure him, and I’m confident that’s the truth; even so, I’ll call Boot as soon as I get the chance to make sure he’s cool.  “If it puts your mind at rest any, Boot’s devotion to you is entirely emotional and in no way mercenary.  I’m sure he won’t hold it against you ... Rocky.”  I start giggling.  I can’t help it.


 


“Bastard!”  He dives on me and starts tickling me on the sides of my waist, which he knows is my weak spot.  Normally I’d simply grab him and roll him over before he can do any damage, but having my right hand incapacitated takes away my advantage.  I’m in dire danger of being reduced to a helpless, weeping wreck so I take refuge in low deceit; I shake my bandaged hand and yelp loudly and go for the sympathy vote.  At once he’s all concern and contrition, kissing and cooing over it in a highly satisfactory manner.


 


I let him pamper me for a few minutes.  “You know what would really make me feel better?” 


 


He looks up from his ministrations inquiringly.


 


“A joint would be really, really good.”


 


“No, Brian.”  He shakes his head adamantly.  “I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be breathing any more smoke right now.”


 


“Just one,” I wheedle, giving him my best pathetic look.  “It would really help the pain, and it’s not as though I can roll one myself with my left hand ... besides, I think we both deserve one after the night we’ve been through.  You can smoke most of it, I’ll just have a couple of tokes.”  I can see him weakening, so I give him a small, helpless smile.  “And then ... I’d really like a shower.  I stink of smoke and sick people.”


 


His eyebrows go up.  “I’m also sure you shouldn’t get that dressing wet.”


 


“If we could cover your cast with a trash bag, I think we can deal with my hand.  Only you’ll have to help me, of course ... to undress and stuff ... and to wash ...”  I lean in and kiss his lips gently, savouring the taste of him. 


 


Oh yeah.  I’m going to need lots and lots of help ... in all sorts of ways.


 


“Wow.”  He gives a shaky little laugh.  “There’s a first ... Brian Kinney admitting he needs someone!”


 


“Yeah.” I kiss along the line of his jaw and settle just below his earlobe, nibbling gently, making him shiver.  “But then, you know how much I’ve always enjoyed exposing you to novel experiences.  I intend exposing you to many more during the years ahead.”


 


“Really.”  He’s smirking a little.  His right hand strays to my thigh and slides upwards.  “And what would they be, Mr. Kinney?”


 


“Uh huh.”  I bite back a groan as he reaches his target.  “That’s for me to know, and you to find out, Mr Taylor.”  


 


The doctor said the dressings can probably come off in a week.


 


They’d better; I’m going to need both my hands come Christmas.


 


 


 


 


TBC


 


 


 


 

You must login (register) to review.