


All This Time

by saturnssons



Category: Queer as Folk
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2015-04-11 23:27:20
Rating: M
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,711
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7632904/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2116435/saturnssons
Summary: Five years have passed since Justin left for NY and he and Brain have slowly grown apart, no longer keeping in touch. But what happens when a chance encounter in Paris reunites the two? Will flames ignite or will it be their final goodbye? Justin's POV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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><p>Another tremor racked through my body as the plane eased off the tarmac and into the cool night air, flakes of snow floating lazily past me as I stared out from my window seat. That last jolt had woken me from my sleep, though for that I was grateful.<p>

I had been dreaming about Brian again. That was the fifth time this week and it didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon. I had thought that over time, I would recover, maybe even find someone I loved. But it had been five years and I was still stuck in my mindless stupor, trying to avoid the obvious. No matter how hard I tried (and trust me, I tried hard, my dick being a testimony to that very statement), I couldn't let him go.

I often found myself wondering if we shared mutual feelings about the distance between us. In the beginning, we had attempted a long distance relationship, with Brian coming over to New York every few weeks and I going back to Pittsburgh, reliving my glory days as I blazed down Liberty Avenue with Brian, Michael, Emmett, Ted and Ben by my side. And for a while, it really seemed to work. It seemed I had the best of both worlds. However, the demands of my touring exhibition meant that I could travel less and less until eventually I was so consumed by work, I hadn't realized it had been over a year since I'd last seen Brian.

It didn't help that Brian's advertising company, Kinnetik, had manifested substantially, becoming the largest in the country. Overtime, we grew apart and before I knew it, we stopped visiting each other all together. I had tried on numerous times to clear up my hectic schedule to visit him, insisting that my manager leave me at least one week free. But it just wasn't possible.

Of course, I never forgot Brian, not even for a second. More times than I could possibly remember, I found myself jerking off to the thought of him, remembering his warm embrace as we made love on every possible surface at his loft. The smell of his bed sheets filled my vision and once I even heard myself moan Brian's name as I fucked a guy I had meet the day before. Needless to say, he wasn't very impressed but he let me finish the job.

Even now, as I sat on the plane that was twelve hours away from Paris for my latest galley exhibition, everything reminded me of Brian. I shook my head in frustration, my knuckles turning to a sickly shade of white as I tried to erase some of the tension in my body.

I leaned back, reclining my feet and thankful that my manager had booked me a first class ticket. I guess the lavish lifestyle that Brian led had rubbed off on me slightly and now first class was the way I preferred to travel. However, I would have been happier if the plane was going in the direction of Pittsburgh. Judging by the way my thoughts continually traced back to Brian, I had a feeling that this was going to be a long flight.

I fell asleep again, though to my immense hesitancy, as I knew I would only dream of Brian. I awoke, groggy and agitated. Most of the passengers had gone to sleep, the attendants leaving the aisle free so that I could get up uninterrupted and head to the toilet. As my foot touched the aisle, my head shot up instinctively when I heard the most recognizable voice in the world.

"Theodore, make sure that my clients have all their needs met so that when I touch down in Paris, I won't have to do your job. Remember, I'm the boss and you're the one who is supposed to ensure that shit doesn't hit the fan and ruin the stellar image of Kinnetik." Brian paused, smiling at something.

He sat at the front of the cabin, alone and facing ahead, having not seen me yet. He really hadn't changed over the five years that I knew him. He was as beautiful as ever, with sly smirk on his face that I loved to see. I hesitated, somehow thinking that maybe it was a good idea I just sit down and sink into my seat for the rest of the flight. What would he think of me after all this time? Would he be angry that I stopped visiting him?

I almost sat back down, thinking there were too many buried memories that need not be unearthed. However, my body had other plans and I was positive that I wouldn't make it through the twelve-hour flight without peeing.

Brushing wisps of blonde hair in front of my face in the hopes that I could partially hide some of my identity, I slouched forward, thinking that Brian was too consumed in his conversation that he wouldn't notice me. He'd probably just assume I was going to the bathroom for a good fuck, considering there were mainly males in this area of the cabin.

I thought I was in the clear when I paced past Brian, not even once breaking my concentration as I focused on the bathroom door. He didn't even look up as I passed and I breathed in a sigh of relief when I shut the door behind me. I twisted my body, my hands reaching at my pants, itching to be relieved when I heard the door open behind me.

"Sorry, occupied." I mumbled. The door shut again, though this time I could feel someone's breath lingering on my neck. I knew who it was. Of course I hadn't fooled him. He was Brian Kinney, for fucks sake. Slowly, I twisted my torso in the limited space and stood before the face of God, as I commonly liked to refer to him as.

"Sunshine." He said simply then leaned towards me, his lips within inches of mine. Suddenly, a knock on the door jolted us both back into reality and we heard the wispy voice of a female attendant. "Excuse me men but would please return to your seats." She opened the door, clearly surprised that our pants weren't already at our feet and we weren't fucking like there was no tomorrow.

"Please." She asked again and Brian retreated from the bathroom without a word, sitting back down. I stood there, dazed for a few seconds before also returning to my seat. What had just happened? I knew that Brian wasn't adverse to a good fuck courtesy of Virgin Airlines but it had been five years since we had last seen each other and he was willing to kiss me like I had only seen him yesterday.

For the rest of the flight, under close supervision by the attendants who all knew that we were up to no good, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander to Brian. He never returned my stare and after a while I was content to just stare at him, knowing that he was never going to look up. Instead, he was on the phone, on his laptop, and looking everywhere but at me.

Well, I got the message loud and clear. The pilot spoke overhead warned us of some minor turbulence as we landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport and watched intently as the lights of Paris came into view. The Eiffel Tower stood out against the backdrop of the twilight sky, occupants of the city not showing any signs of rest as the night life breathed a sigh of relief, free from the oppressive authority of everyday mundane activities.

I would have liked to soak up some of the nightlife but my manager has insisted that I go to the gallery as soon as the plane hit the tarmac. I sighed, knowing that once I left this plane, I'd probably never see Brian again. A longing in my heart gnawed at me for the duration of the flight and, as expected, Brian left his seat as soon as we landed without saying a single word to me.

And then he was gone. Just like that. Of the many times throughout our relationship, I had never felt as miserable as I did then. Miserable that he had said nothing as he walked right past me to leave; miserable that I hadn't worked up the courage to talk to him. Just plain miserable. The dealers handling my exhibition were going to get a rude awakening when I stepped into their grandeur halls with a look of death on my face.

Forty minutes later and I was in a room full of complete strangers, gushing over how magnificent they thought my work was. They were selling left, right and centre at a rate that I could barely fathom. But my attention was led awry, my thoughts constantly tracking back to Brian, mentally kicking myself that I hadn't said nor done anything.

When he was pressed up against in the bathroom stall, our bodies barely separated, a flood of memories doused my brain and I could barely move. I wanted more than anything to feel his lips against mine, the sweet scent of his breath mingled with mine. I remember looking down and seeing that he was hard, just like me. If the attendant hadn't interrupted us when she did, I would have gone down on him then and there.

But I wasn't there any more and the time had passed. Now I had to focus on my exhibition. It was clearly a success but the more that sold, the more depressed I became. What was the point of doing something you enjoyed if you had no one to share it with? I walked around the hall, inspecting some of the paintings still hanging and sighed. Brian had inspired everything I had painted since I had left for New York in some way or another and seeing it all being sold to strangers just further kicked my wounded soul.

I sauntered over to the bar, ordering a gin and tonic. The bar tender, a cute young boy who looked no older than twenty greeted with me with an alluring smile and proceeded to pour my drink while keeping his eyes on me. I looked away, uncomfortable.

"I'll have the same as him." Someone said as they sat down next to me. I turned in utter disbelief to see Brian sitting there in a casual outfit, nothing like businessman from before, and he turned and smiled at me.

"Brian…" I finally chocked out and he offered me a snicker.

"Close your mouth, Sunshine. You're drooling all over the bar." I did what he said, noticing how the bartenders attention immediately switched from me to Brian. Some things never changed.

"What the hell are you doing here? No, actually, how the hell did you know to come here?"

"What, aren't you happy to see me?" Brian teased, but I sensed that he truly was wondering what the answer was.

"Of course…it's just, it's been so long." I said, still unable to comprehend what exactly was going. It was as if my body and mind couldn't fully believe he was here, that if I reached out to him and touched him, he would dissolve and I would realize that it was only a dream.

"I came to see the Justin Taylor exhibition of the century. I've actually heard it's pretty good."

I placed my hand over his, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest at the familiar touch. "Brian, how did you know I was here?"

Brian hesitated, like he didn't want to show such vulnerability after five years. I hoped that he would be honest with me, and not deflect every comment or question I asked. Who knows? Maybe the five years that had built up between us had pushed us back to square one and he still saw me as that naive kid when we first met.

"I guess, you could say, I've been keeping track of your exhibitions. It just happens that I have some clients here in Paris that wanted to have a meeting at the same time you were doing your art exhibition. That fact that we were booked on the same flight is a complete coincidence." The cunning look on his face when he said this told me otherwise. He downed his gin and tonic in one swig then motioned to the bar tender to bring him another.

So Brian did care about me. Even after all this time, he was still checking up on me to see how my progress was going.

I turned away from him, getting up from my seat and walking to one of my closest pieces, pretending as if I hadn't seen it a million times before. I felt incredibly sick to my stomach, guilt growing by the second. Over our five-year separation, at least he had attempted to show some kind of support whereas I got so swept up in my work, I didn't even bother.

"I quite like this one," Brian gestured behind me. He was pointing to one of my favorites, no surprises there. The colors seemed to literally jump out of the canvas as the frame try futilely to conceal the explosion. But even with all of this happening, there was still a hint melancholy. Most of my works were like that thanks to the absence of Mr. Brian Kinney. I guess it wasn't the worst thing, considering they sold like wild fire.

"Brian, why did you come here? I mean, really, no bullshit. Why?" Brian leaned into the frame, as if he was attempting to find some missing link.

"I missed you." He said without making eye contact. The words were so quite that I barely caught them. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to check my reaction but I couldn't even look him in the eye.

"I have to go." I blurted out suddenly, twisting suddenly and frantically looking for the nearest exit. I had to get away, I needed to. It felt like I couldn't breathe; couldn't speak.

"Justin?" Brian called out behind me but I didn't respond.

I began sprinting through the crowd of people, pushing them out of my way in order to escape. Once I made it to the bathroom, I collapsed into one of the bathroom stalls, instinctively moving my head to wretch. But nothing came up but a strangled sob.

My chest tightened as I tried to breathe but it was useless.

"Fuck!" I screamed. I punched the wall to my left, feeling my knuckles immediately bruise. "Fuck."

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><p><strong>Hope you liked the first chapter. More adventures are to come in the city of love<strong> **:)**


	2. Chapter 2

What the hell was wrong with me? Why was it that whenever life threw me something that I didn't think I could handle, I ran away. I ran away from my mother when she found out I was gay, I ran away from Brian when I thought he didn't love me because he never said it aloud (even though I knew all along) and now I running away from him again.

Even if I had returned to the art gallery and confronted him, he would have tried to appear blasé, like he didn't care that I hadn't put any effort into our relationship. Like it wasn't my fault we lost touch. But we both knew it was and even if Brian wasn't willing to admit it, deep down, he was hurting.

If I didn't known him as well as I did, and admittedly, cause some of the hurt that he tried so hard to hide from everyone, it would appear that he really didn't give a shit. He would have acted like, if I had sailed off into the horizon, without even a backwards glance, it wouldn't affect him in the slightest.

I lit up a smoke, inhaling the drag heavily in an attempt to alleviate the stress. I had thought that walking around in the cool night air would help to unclutter my head and take the edge of the nauseous feeling in my stomach.

However, as time stretched on and minutes turned into hours, I found I was even more agitated than before. I stubbed my third cigarette under my shoe and headed to the only place that I knew would calm me enough and allow me to think straight.

I arrived at a grandeur hotel that my manager had sought out before we had even arrived in Paris. He had booked two rooms instead of one and arranged with the owners of the hotel that I could use the second one as a makeshift studio. I had told him earlier that I had wanted the gallery to be within a close distance of the hotel so that I wouldn't have to do too much travelling.

Pulling out my key, I inserted it into the lock, and opened my studio, my paintings and art materials already prepared.

I got to work immediately, stripping off my suit and getting into clothes that had been splattered a dozen times over by paint. I set a large canvas on the ground, pulling out some colours from the darker end of the colour spectrum then began striking the painting with swift, jerking motions. My hand made a flourish of motions, with no direction and no real purpose.

It felt nice. For too long, I had been painting for the sole reason of selling my work and making a profit. Over the years, painting had lost its spark and it wasn't until now, as I nearly flung my body at the canvas, that I felt a difference. I was painting for no one except me. For once, I put no real thought into where I placed the brush on the canvas. It was almost as if the paintbrush had a mind of its own and I was simply allowing it to do the work.

I circled the canvas, as if in trance, flicking the paint as I went in a haphazard way. I could feel warmth rising in my chest, nearly mirroring what it had felt like when I had picked up a brush for the very first time.

I paused to take in the work then smiled.

It was an absolute mess. And it was fucking brilliant. I leaned back, the paintbrush falling from my grasp and hitting the floor with muted thud. I wiped my sleeve against my forehead, realising too late that there had been paint on that sleeve and it was now smeared right across my face.

I smiled again and felt the final wave of anxiety subside. I was still acutely aware of all the problems that had built up but now I felt better equipped to deal with it all.

Three sharp knocks caught my attention and I looked up curiously. _It must be Adam, wondering where the hell I had disappeared to after I left the gallery_, I thought. _Shit, he's going to be pissed_.

I didn't bother getting changed, instead opening the door, already attempting to explain myself before it was fully open.

"Look, I'm sorry Adam, I-"

The words stopped midway in my throat, and then retreated back into my mind as I saw the last person I was expecting to see standing at the door.

"Sunshine." Brian said, nearly echoing his tone when he had snuck up behind me in the plane and said the same thing.

"Brian? How the hell did you know I was here?" Before I even finished my sentence, I knew.

"Your manager Adam, I believe his name is, was kind enough to tell me where you were taking up residence. I tried the other room, but I had a feeling you would be here in your studio." His eyes studied my face, taking in the black mark that I hadn't washed off yet.

"I remember you used to paint whenever you were stressed, when life wouldn't stop beating the shit out of you. You told me once it was your way of coping." He inclined his head, peering past me at the painting on the ground.

"May I?" He asked.

I nodded and shut the door behind him as he walked up to the painting to get a closer look. After a few moments of silence he finally said something.

"This is unlike any of the other work that's featured in your gallery. Why is that?" I shrugged, not willing to disclose the extent of the effect he had over my paintings.

"I didn't choose to paint this way. It simply…happened. I guess that's what happens when I get too mad. I simply snap and it all comes out on the canvas."

Brian nodded thoughtfully, seeming to absorb every word I was saying. Hell, I didn't even really know what I was saying.

I allowed myself to steal glances of Brian every time he turned his head down to inspect the painting, a slow burning in my stomach building. This always happened whenever I was around him. His mere presence set off some sort of chemical reaction in my brain, bringing forth urges that were nearly impossible to ignore.

"And why was that? Why were you mad?" He asked, and we both held our breath, waiting to see what I would say.

Brian observed me from the other side of the room, staring at me with an unflinching gaze. I exhaled slowly, picking up the brush I had left on the ground and started painting again.

"You know, through most of our ten year relationship, I always thought that I was the one who was putting the most effort into keeping us together, that I was willing to take whatever it was to be with you. Even when I left you for Ethan-" he flinched, but I continued, "I thought I was completely justified in my actions. But seeing you there at my exhibition today, hearing about the effort you went to just to see my show, made me realise what a fucking idiot I was."

Brian raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to explain. "Don't you see Brian? The last night we spent together, before I went to New York, I promised we'd see each other again. I made a promise to not only you but also to myself that I wouldn't let my work stop me from being with you. And that's exactly what I let happen!"

I slashed at the painting suddenly, feeling the anger rising once more. Something tugged at my wrist and I looked up wearily to see Brian standing over me.

"Do you remember what I said on the night before you left for New York?" He asked. I shook my head as his grip loosened on my wrist, though he didn't remove his hand.

"Whether we see each other next week, next month or never again, it doesn't matter. Its only time. Justin, I meant what I said and when you left for New York, I knew it wasn't going to be easy, for either of us. When you're an artist, especially one as famous as you, you don't have a lot of time. And I get that."

He pulled me close, our bodies inches apart.

"And you never broke your promise."

I gazed at him questionably.

"I'm seeing you now." And with that, he pressed his lips against mine.

In that moment, it felt as if the past five years of separation had simply vanished. All of my insecurities, my fears and my doubts had evaporated and the only thing that I was focused on now was Brian. He was all that mattered.

Unwillingly, I drew my lips away from his when I remembered that I was a complete mess, with paint covering nearly every part of my body.

"Uh, Brian, I'm a little messy." Brian's hand held my neck, pulling me close to his face, his lips barely touching mine as he whispered, "I don't care." His tongue plunged into my mouth as I moaned in ecstasy.

We both knew we weren't going to make it to my bed. Brian pushed me softly to the ground, his eyes trained on mine as he slowly lowered himself onto me, teasing me as he undid the buttons on his shirt.

I gripped his hair between my fingers, pulling his mouth close to mine. My tongue traced his bottom lip as he shuttered in anticipation. As always, Brian came prepared, taking a condom out from his pocket. I snickered at this but Brian simply rolled his eyes and kissed me so forcefully, it felt as if the wind had nearly been knocked out of me.

"Roll over." He ordered, nibbling on my ear before nudging me over onto my stomach. I knew he couldn't keep up the teasing for too long. His passion paralleled mine. The need was too deep to go on resisting.

At this very thought, Brian entered me, his body rocking up against mine in sharp, hard movements. We simultaneously let out groans as Brian increased tempo, years' worth of fucking built up and finally being released after all this time.

No amount of tricks could ever compare to the feeling of Brian making love to me. Maybe that was simply it. With the tricks, it was only fucking. When I was with Brian, he was making love to me and it meant something more to me.

Brian gripped my hips, pushing harder as he leaned forward, his tongue curving patterns across my neck and down my back. Finally, I couldn't hold it in anymore and came, Brian following seconds later as he collapsed on top of me.

In the process of our love making, I hadn't realised we had rolled onto the painting. Our bodies were streaked with black and blue splotches of paint. Brian held me tightly, still inside me and we listened as the sound of our breathing slowed down.

Brian looked up, eyes next to mine. He lowered his mouth onto mine in a gentle kiss, conveying everything that I needed to hear in that simple action. Regardless of time, we would always love each other, no matter what.

"You know, this doesn't change anything. I've still got numerous exhibitions that I have to attend, and my schedule is not going to clear up anytime soon." I didn't mean to bring us both down with reality but this thought continued to nag me.

Brian stroked my face, trying to remove some of the paint that I'm sure was already caked on by now.

"I know."

"However, I'm considering taking an early vacation." I said, a thought occurring to me.

"Hmm?"

"Well, you know how we artists are. We are very demanding people. Besides, I've been working my ass off for the past five years, getting this exhibition up and running. It's about time I take a break. Adam's going to fucking freak when he hears, though. I'm surprised he hasn't quit yet." I laughed quietly to myself.

"And what are you going to do on this vacation?" He asked suspiciously.

"I think it's time for a visit back to Pittsburgh, see my Mom and Molly. And of course the gang."

Brian nodded, about to pull out from me. I seized his hands, twisting my body to face him.

"And we're going to fuck our brains out." I said, smiling from ear to ear.

"Well, why don't we get a head start?" Brian laughed as he kissed me once more and pulled me onto his body.


End file.
