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

* As always, a huge shout out to my beta Karynn *

 

 

Connor’s house, Thursday, July 23rd, 6:50 a.m.

 

Connor rubs his face, trying to get rid of his tiredness. After Gabriel’s stunning declaration the previous night, he barely slept, having spent most of his time replaying the kiss they shared, still astounded that Gabriel told him that he loved him.

 

He’s just taken a shower and is now standing with only his pants on in front of the mirror. “What the fuck are you going to do, you dumbass?” he asks his reflection as he raises his hand and tentatively touches the skin under his eye.

 

He flinches slightly - cursing the man who thought he needed to punch him to make his point clear. “Fucking dickless wonder,” he fulminates, before grabbing his shirt and putting it on.

 

With a sigh, he takes some cream from the medicine cabinet, flips it open, and rubs it into his skin, hoping to soothe the irritated spot and reduce the swelling. He then adds concealer, cursing Liam for having noticed the bruise.

 

Once he’s done, he shuffles out of the bathroom and heads towards the kitchen. He grabs a cup of coffee to prepare a Nespresso, and cuts a bun in two pieces that he drops into the toaster. A couple of minutes later, he is stirring his coffee absently as he thinks some more about Gabriel, when someone knocks at the door. At first, he doesn’t react, although he questions who could be there, especially this early. Then he shrugs, deciding that whoever is at the door isn’t worth the effort to cross the room, not to mention abandoning his breakfast.

 

The persistent fucker knocks again, however, and Connor rolls his eyes as he hears Justin calling his name. Chewing on his bun, he briefly considers ignoring the blond but decides against it. He engulfs the rest of his breakfast in one bite and saunters over to the front door.

 

“Jussin.” He grins with all his teeth as a welcome, his cheeks full of the bun.

 

Justin makes a face. “Connor, please swallow.”

 

Connor obeys and replies with a smirk, “You may sound like a porn star, but you look like a fucking mess.”

 

“Can I come in?” Justin inquires, ignoring Connor’s witty comment.

 

“Sure,” Connor agrees, dropping the humorous act, sensing that Justin needs a friend right now, not an annoying buffoon.

 

“Thanks,” Justin says as Connor opens the door to let him in. He pauses when he notices the painter gazing down at his hand emphatically.

 

“That,” Connor points with a frown, “is a duffle bag.”

 

Justin glances down, his brow furrowing. Peering up, he drawls, “You’re quite the observer.”

 

Connor tilts his head. “You know what I mean.”

 

Justin bites his lip. Noticing the gleam in Connor’s eyes, he clarifies, “This isn’t what you think.”

 

“You don’t know what I think,” Connor enunciates, “but I will tell you anyway. You look like a truck ran over you, so... I’m deducing you spent the night crying because you finally realized you were in love with the wrong man. Until of course, you picked up your fancy knapsack - because you couldn’t resist the pull any longer - and came here to throw yourself into my arms.”

 

Justin chuckles, joshing, “You wish.”

 

“From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I always knew we were meant to be,” Connor teases, before grabbing the duffle bag from Justin’s hands and heading to the stairs. Stopping at the bottom, he gazes back at Justin, inquiring, “What are you waiting for?”

 

Justin seems to puzzle things over for a moment. “You’re not serious about us being destined for each other, right?”

 

Connor smirks. “I almost want to be, looking at your expression right now. But even though this will always be my deepest regret - and I truly, and I mean, truly, feel horrible for crushing your illusions - I need you to know we won’t ever be able to consummate our love.”

 

“That’s awful,” Justin plays along.

 

“I know. I would be devastated too if I were you.” Connor deadpans. “But it is what it is. So until you figure out whatever you need to figure out, you’re stuck with your hand to pleasure yourself in my guest room. Although I’d advise you to sleep first, because I’m concerned you won’t be able get it up until you get some rest.”

 

Connor expects Justin to smile at his stupid repartee, but the blond just stares at him as if realizing something. The painter is well aware that Justin’s presence in his house means something happened with Liam. But Justin obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, and even if he did, Connor wouldn’t let him, because the blond is swaying on his feet at the moment.

 

“Come on,” Connor urges when Justin doesn’t move. “I’m even going to make the bed with clean sheets while you relax in my five-star shower before crashing. I don’t change the bedding for just anyone, you know?”

 

At last, Justin’s lips curl upward as he moves toward the stairs. “You promise that you cleaned your sheets less than ten years ago?”

 

“You’re hurting my heart, Justin Taylor,” Connor playfully responds, before climbing the stairs and guiding Justin to the spare room.

 

***

 

7:30 a.m.

 

Gabriel turns off his Jeep next to Connor’s Mustang and frowns when he notices another car parked in front of the painter’s house. Exiting the vehicle, he walks to the front door but doesn’t have the time to knock before Connor appears.

 

“Gabriel…” The painter says his name, startled to see him.

 

“Hey. Is this a bad time?” Gabriel inquires, trying to look inside the house before glancing at the car.

 

Connor’s brow furrows. “What?” Following Gabriel’s gaze, he sees Justin’s rental. “Oh... it’s Justin.”

 

“Justin?” Gabriel echoes quizzically. “What is he doing here?”

 

“Dunno.” Connor retorts, before inquiring curtly, “What do you want?”

 

Gabriel doesn’t reply, merely raising his eyebrows.

 

“I don’t have time for this.” Connor dismisses him, grabbing his keys. “My mother is waiting for me. Whining, Big Belly Elly is sick again.” he declares as he closes the door behind him and slides the key into the lock.

 

When he turns around, Gabriel approaches him, effectively trapping him against the door.

 

“What are you doing?” Connor asks.

 

“Did you hear me last night?” Gabriel inquires quietly, cupping Connor’s cheek. He’s relieved to feel the brunet lean into him, although he also senses Connor wants to resist, which puzzles him. He knows the man has feelings for him, so why is he being so distant, when Gabriel is finally ready to give him everything? The blond would understand if Connor didn’t trust him or held a grudge, but he somehow feels this is not the problem.

 

“I did,” Connor responds to his question with a sigh.

 

“I meant it,” Gabriel professes.

 

Connor snorts. “Uh-huh…” he utters, closing his eyes when Gabriel starts caressing his face, his thumb brushing against his lips. But all of a sudden, he straightens up and steps away from Gabriel’s touch. “I need to go.”

 

“Connor,” Gabriel frowns. He’s certain Connor is trying to avoid him, so without thinking any further, he blurts out, “I owe you a dinner.”

 

“What? No, you don’t.” Connor refutes as he heads to his car, with Gabriel on his heels. As he is about to unlock the Mustang, the blond snatches the keys from his hand.

 

“If you want them back, you have to agree to have dinner with me tonight.” Gabriel bargains with a smirk, shaking the keys under Connor’s nose. The brunet tries to grab them thrice, but Gabriel reacts too quickly.

 

“Give them back!” Connor demands, annoyed by the blond’s ploy.

 

“No,” Gabriel taunts, shaking his head and evading Connor once more.

 

“I’ll go by foot if you don’t give me my keys,” Connor stubbornly threatens, glancing up at the dark clouds above their heads.

 

“Be my guest,” Gabriel ripostes, indicating the road with his hand. “You’ll be late. I’d offer you a ride, but since you’re a rude character, I know you’d turn me down.”

 

“I’ll jog,” Connor retorts, eying his classy Bugatti boots.

 

“Run fast then, since it’s going to rain any second now,” Gabriel advises, just as the first drop falls from the sky.

 

Connor glares at him, then up the sky, yelling, “Traitor!” As soon as the word escapes his lips, the rain begins to pour down, soaking both men in less than ten seconds.

 

“Fine!” Connor relents. “Give me my fucking keys!”

 

“Not until you promise to spend the whole evening with me, and not gulp down your dinner in less than five minutes.” At Connor’s offended expression, Gabriel laughs. “I know you too well, remember?”

 

Drops of water run along Connor’s face as he finally barks out a laugh. “I promise,” he mocks in a high-pitched tone.

 

“And,” Gabriel approaches him, still keeping the keys out of reach, “you have to kiss me. Right here, right now.”

 

Connor can’t repress a smile as the blond stops a few inches from him. He finally caves in, promising, “You’re so going to pay for this.”

 

“I’m counting on it,” Gabriel replies bashfully, rolling his lips into his mouth.

 

Connor’s smile vanishes. His eyes bore into Gabriel’s with an intensity that makes the blond’s heart skip a beat, the brunet grabbing the man’s collar before sliding his hand around his neck and pressing their lips together.

 

Gabriel drops the keys and deepens the kiss, forgetting all about the rain.

 

***

 

Liam’s studio, 2:30 p.m.

 

Brian tries to focus on the paperwork he’s supposed to submit to his main supplier. He’s barely slept, having crashed for a couple of hours around seven this morning, until he woke up from a bad dream. Justin was chasing him with a gun in a parking garage, shots resonating around him until a bullet entered his brain and made him fall. He kept moving nonetheless, which was impossible, of course, but in the dream, he finally managed to turn over and peer up at Justin. And then, the blond had flatly announced that there was just one bullet left and had shot himself in the head, his limp body collapsing onto the cement.

 

Brian awakened screaming and has been in a funk ever since. Not that he was feeling good anyway. Since Justin left this morning, he’s questioned a hundred times what has been accomplished by revealing everything to the blond. Sure, he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, especially since Justin agreed to hear him out, but the truth is, he’s put the blond in danger and hates himself for it. He should have known Justin wouldn’t agree to leave, ignoring his own safety. What the fuck was Brian thinking?

 

Moreover, he should call Allen and tell him everything since the FBI agent was very adamant during his last visit that he be kept informed, but he doesn’t want to. Although, he needs the FBI to protect Justin, so he may not have a choice but to call after all.

 

With a sigh, Brian decides to give up on getting paperwork done today. A few customers are strolling around the studio, so he should probably join them instead.

 

Standing up, Brian is about to walk out of his office when Gabriel comes in.

 

“Hey, Liam,” Gabriel greets him with a small smile.

 

“Hey,” Brian returns. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I needed to give you this,” Gabriel explains, handing Brian a book. “It’s the retrospective of the annual photography exhibition.”

 

“Thanks,” Brian accepts the gift, noticing one of his pictures is displayed on the cover. “Your editor used my work for the cover?”

 

“He did,” Gabriel confirms with a smile. At Brian’s incredulous stare, he admits, “I suggested it.”

 

“Like the true friend you are,” Brian drawls playfully as he carefully opens the beautiful book, leafing through the pages while walking back to sit at his desk.

 

“I went to Connor’s place this morning,” Gabriel informs him nonchalantly, although Brian understands immediately why his friend is mentioning it.

 

“How was Grouchy?” Brian inquires without bothering to look up.

 

“He…” Gabriel trails off.

 

Brian gazes up with a frown when his friend doesn’t elaborate any further. Noticing the look on Gabriel’s face, he closes the book and commends, “Finally, you’ve grown some balls. Good for you.”

 

“Fuck you!” Gabriel retorts, narrowing his eyes at Brian. “You’re one to speak. I thought Justin was supposed to stay at your place.”

 

Brian looks away. “Justin is a big boy. He can do as he pleases.”

 

“Liam,” Gabriel calls out to him, probably surmising that something is going on, but Brian can’t let his friend try to talk some sense into him when the gallery owner doesn’t know anything about what’s really happening.

 

“Listen,” Brian interrupts him, placing his arms around the man’s shoulders to guide him back to the door, “I’m kind of busy right now, so why don’t you-”

 

“Cut it out.” Gabriel isn’t fooled. “I know something’s going on between you and Justin. You don’t want to talk about it? Fine. But be careful not to make the same mistake that I did.”

 

“Don’t worry, there will be no mistake because there is nothing between me and Justin.” Brian counters, the lie slipping easily from his lips. “By the end of the week, he will be gone, and I will still be stuck in our lovely town with you and Mr. High and Mighty.”

 

Gabriel isn’t convinced though, and insists, “Liam, you-”

 

“Drop it,” Brian sharply orders. “Seriously, Gabe, mind your own business.”

 

Gabriel frowns. Gazing down, he finally makes his way to the door but pauses with his hand on the knob, asking in a concerned tone, “You sure you’re okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Brian instantly responds. He is anything but fine.

 

Gabriel sighs. “No, you’re not,” is all he says, not waiting for Brian’s reply before walking out the door. He therefore doesn’t see his friend flinch at his reply.

 

A minute later, Brian picks up his phone.

 

***

 

Connor’s house, same time…

 

Justin opens his eyes and blinks. He frowns, his gaze sweeping around the room as he stretches, trying to recall where he is. Noticing the three paintings on the wall next to the bed, he lets out a sigh, remembering he’s at Connor’s, but most of all, acknowledging why he’s here in the first place.

 

He rubs his face, bending his knees. He thinks of Brian, the anger and betrayal he felt when he discovered his former lover was alive. He’s still coming to terms with all of it, trying to understand what Brian has gone through, how he must have felt when he woke up, brain damaged, to a world where everyone thought he was dead.

 

Justin is mad at Brian, however. Not for lying - not anymore - but for thinking the only thing to do now that he knows the truth, is for him to leave and move on with his life. Justin gets that he needs to keep quiet, since a fucking psycho is after Brian, but demanding that he stay away is completely fucked. He refuses to leave him, not caring that the brunet will insist that he’ll only be safe far away from him, or that the FBI will demand his departure.

 

It’s not that simple, though. He can’t move to Lakevallée without his mother and his friends questioning his intentions or, even worse, planning a visit. Going back to Philly may be the smart thing to do, but he will go nuts knowing Brian is here while he’s thousands of miles away.

 

His brow furrowing in frustration, he gets out of bed. Overthinking won’t solve anything, so he may as well go in search of a much-needed cup of coffee.

 

Taking a pair of clean pants and a shirt from his duffle bag, Justin pulls them on and exits the room. He hesitates briefly, listening for any sounds. Hearing Connor’s voice, he descends the stairs. He notices the painter in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and drinking a hot cup of tea while reading a book. For some reason, it makes him chuckle.

 

Connor interrupts his reading and gives him a questioning look, drawling, “I thought you were dead. You’ve been out for almost eight hours.”

 

“No such luck. I’m still alive,” Justin responds, peering at the Nespresso machine and pointing at it. “Can I?”

 

“Help yourself. The capsules are in the drawer next to the Nespresso.” Connor replies, taking another sip of his beverage while peering down at his book, which appears to be a retrospective of Monet’s work. “You were able to sleep?”

 

“Yeah,” Justin affirms, retrieving a ristretto pod and putting it in the holder, prior to placing a cup under the nozzle and pressing the switch. “Thanks, for letting me in. You could have told me to fuck off.”

 

Connor snorts. “You could barely keep your eyes open.”

 

“True,” Justin nods. “But still, you didn’t have to let me stay.”

 

“Hmm,” Connor blows on his tea.

 

Justin picks up his Nespresso, gazing at the brunet, who pretends to be engrossed in his reading. Truthfully, Justin is amazed by Connor’s kindness. He could have demanded answers when the blond showed up on his doorstep but he didn’t, insisting that he sleep instead, and acting like a real friend.

 

Justin smiles softly as he goes to sit on the bar stool in front of Connor, waiting for the man to acknowledge him.

 

Connor glances over questioningly. “You need something or are you just looking at me because I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?”

 

Justin is about to respond when his stomach growls.

 

“So, you want food,” Connor articulates with a roll of his eyes, snatching a paper bag from the counter and throwing it at Justin.

 

Justin barely catches it. “What’s this?” he inquires, opening the bag and peering inside.

 

“Burger and fries to reheat.” Connor answers.

 

“For me?” Justin inquires, astounded by Connor’s thoughtful gesture.

 

“No, for the wolves in the woods.” Connor mocks. “Are you always this eloquent when you first wake up?”

 

“Hey!” Justin protests, although he is truly touched. “I just need some food in my system to function properly.”

 

“Well, open your mouth and eat then,” Connor demands mischievously, turning a page.

 

Justin removes the burger and fries from the paper bag and goes in search of a plate. Once he locates one, he reheats the food in the microwave, and then sits back down. “Mmm,” he hums appreciatively as he takes the first bite of his burger. “This is good.”

 

“I made it myself,” Connor intones, standing up to take a banana from a fruit basket near the fridge.

 

“No, you didn’t,” Justin refutes as he takes another bite.

 

Connor grins broadly, peeling the fruit and putting it into his mouth, mimicking Justin’s moans from earlier. “Mmm…”

 

Justin almost chokes on his burger.

 

“It really resembles a cock, even in flavor,” Connor comments as he peers down at the banana, before stating innocently, “By the way, Liam called.”

 

Justin’s heart skips a beat. He focuses on his burger, slowly chewing the food. Once he has swallowed the bite, he takes another. He can feel Connor’s staring at him and prays that the painter won’t call him on his odd behavior.

 

“You told me last night that I needed to give Gabriel a chance,” Connor declares out of the blue, prompting Justin to gaze up at him. “I’m not sure what happened with Liam, but maybe you should take your own advice and go back to him.”

 

“Did you?” Justin ignores Connor’s recommendation.

 

Connor holds his gaze for a moment, before retorting, “That’s none of your business. And besides, Gabriel shouldn’t be with me.” He stands up to pour the remainder of his tea down the sink.

 

“I don’t get it,” Justin interjects. “It’s obvious he cares about you. So why are you holding back?”

 

“You don’t know me,” Connor counters defensively, “and you’re one to talk. What are you doing here when Liam is waiting for you to return to him?”

 

“How do you know Liam and I…”

 

“Please, Justin,” Connor huffs. “I’d have to be blind not to see that something’s going on between the two of you.”

 

Justin doesn’t know what to say.

 

“You should call him. Tell him you’re… alright,” Connor suggests, before heading to the stairs. “I will be in my studio. Just knock if you need anything.”

 

Justin nods, watching the brunet disappear up the stairs. He peers down at his fries, his appetite gone. Pushing his plate aside, he takes his phone from his pocket and realizes he doesn’t have Brian’s number.

 

“Shit,” he curses, standing up and heading upstairs. On the second floor, he goes toward what he guesses to be the studio and knocks, before grabbing the handle and trying to open the door, frowning when he discovers it’s locked. “Connor?” he calls, trying to open the door again.

 

He hears the painter mumbling something, followed by the click of the door being unlocked. “No need to break down my door,” Connor enunciates as he appears in front of Justin, exiting the studio and closing the door behind himself.

 

“I…” Justin hesitates. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

 

Connor shakes his head. “You didn’t, I mean…” he stammers before asking, “You need something?”

 

“Yeah. Liam’s number,” Justin responds.

 

Connor nods, retrieving his cell from the back pocket of his jeans. Giving the number to Justin, he then asks, “Anything else?”

 

“No,” Justin replies, quipping, “I’m not asking you to give me a tour.”

 

Connor actually looks contrite for a second, “You know how we geniuses are.” He shrugs. “No one enters this studio except me. I’m tempted to make an exception for you since you pout so adorably when you don’t get what you want, but… no can do. You’d bring those bad vibes with you and I’d need an exorcism of the entire space to get rid of them.”

 

“You’re wrong.” Justin retorts with a smirk. “Nothing inspires a queer more than a perfect ass, and I assure you, mine is a piece of art. You should really let me in.”

 

Connor snorts, grinning. “Nice try.”

 

“You really aren’t going to show me more of your work, are you?” Justin laughs.

 

“I don’t like people looking at my work, unless it’s finished,” Connor confesses uncomfortably, and Justin realizes he must have rarely admitted that to anyone. “I’m currently working on a new piece.”

 

“For the gallery’s collection?” Justin inquires, his interest piqued.

 

“Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s rude to be too nosy, Mr. Taylor?” Connor drawls.

 

“Sorry,” Justin flashes him an apologetic smile. “I’ll let you work, I promise.”

 

Connor gives him a small nod and steps back into the studio. He is about to close the door, but Justin prevents him from doing so, moving forward and placing his hand on the surface.

 

“I didn’t thank you properly for… giving me a place to crash without asking any questions.”

 

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” Connor contradicts, a gleam appearing in his eyes. “I told you yesterday that you could use my sheets and smell my dirty underwear anytime. Although now that I think about it, I’m disappointed you didn’t ask for a pair to use as a blankie so you could fall asleep to that enticing aroma.”

 

Justin chuckles. “Well, I may have passed on sniffing your jockstrap, but I deeply appreciate what you did for me.”

 

“Stop being so polite.” Connor quips, “For your information, I only use boxers, or occasionally string bikinis to enhance my dick, although I’ve never gotten used to the cord between my cheeks.” He smirks, brushing Justin’s hand away from the door. “Now, can I go back to work, or are you going to hit on me all day?”

 

Justin laughs, Connor raising his eyebrows playfully before closing the studio door in his face. The blond then walks to his room and sits on the bed, hesitating briefly before dialing Brian.

 

The man curtly answers on the first ring. “Liam Byron.”

 

“Liam?” Justin uses his false name on a hunch, not certain he’s supposed to call Brian by his real name on the phone. Maybe he’s seen too many movies.

 

“You okay?” Brian immediately inquires, Justin’s chest constricting as he hears the concern in the brunet’s voice.

 

“I’m fine,” Justin reassures Brian. “I will join you at the chalet soon, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Brian replies, obviously relieved that Justin doesn’t need more time on his own.

 

“Later,” Justin promises.

 

He hears Brian’s breathing through the phone. “Later,” the brunet eventually answers, before disconnecting the call.

 

Justin lets his hand fall on the bed, lying down on his back with a smile. He is going to see Brian. The man is alive. Fuck, this is such a good feeling.

 

They have so many things to deal with, but Justin doesn’t care at the moment. Going to Connor’s hasn’t solved anything, but the blond has finally made up his mind. He won’t leave Brian until he absolutely has to. He won’t listen to his former lover if the man wants him to stay away. He will fight to be with him, to make Brian accept him in his life again, and he won’t fail, because when Justin Taylor wants something, he never quits, and he sure as hell isn’t starting today.

 

Satisfied with his decision, Justin gets up, packs his things, and throws his duffle bag over his shoulder, before walking out of the room. He hesitates in front of Connor’s door and considers knocking to inform him he’s leaving, before deciding against it, not wanting to disturb the painter.

 

He exits the house after writing a note and enters his rental. Checking the time, he notices it’s barely four-thirty, which means Brian won’t be able to leave his studio right away. Deciding to explore the valley - he’s wanted to draw the chalet’s surroundings ever since he first saw them with Brian - he types a quick message informing the brunet he will be there by five-thirty and turns on the car.

 

He doesn’t expect a deer to leap in front of his car as he navigates a rough road near the chalet. Wrenching the steering wheel to avoid the animal, Justin barely has the time to exclaim, “Fuck!” before his car hits a second deer and leaves the dirt road, ending up rolling over before halting, the bumper butting up against a pine tree.

 

 

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