


The True Comeback Kid

by Annymc



Category: Queer as Folk
Genre: Drama, Hurt-Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2013-11-27 21:39:11
Rating: M
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,341
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9857325/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/203907/Annymc
Summary: Post Episode 513. Justin returns to Pittsburgh from New York, one year after ending things with Brian for good. But he's keeping a secret.





	The True Comeback Kid

Title: The True Comeback Kid

Pairing: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Post Episode 513. Justin returns to Pittsburgh from New York, one year after ending things with Brian for good.

Jennifer sticks her head into Justin's room. He's sitting on the end of his bed, his head cradled in one hand, elbow resting on his knee.

"Honey?" she calls. He looks up at her and the pained look on his face makes her frown. "Another dizzy spell?" she asks. He nods, closing his eyes, and turning away. She sits beside him, reaching over to rub his back.

"I'll be fine, Mom. Don't you have to head out? I know you have a showing today," he says. She frowns.

"Yes, I was just on my way. I wanted to know if you wanted anything special from the grocery store." He sits up straighter, and smiles at her, but it's artificial.

"No. I'm good. But I need some more of that pure white acrylic if you're going near Artsy," he says. Jennifer frowns.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be anywhere near Liberty Avenue," she says. Justin sighs. "Why don't you go get it? You've barely left the house in ages." Justin shakes his head.

"You know why I'm staying clear of Liberty. I don't want to see anyone."

"Honey, they all care about you. Do you know how hard it has been to not let Debbie know you're back in Pittsburgh?" she asks. Justin nods. He can imagine. "They're going to find out you're home sooner or later. Will you just get it over with?" she suggests.

"I just don't want to see him. Or Michael," he says with a roll of his eyes. Jennifer shakes her head.

"Michael can go fuck himself," she snaps, startling a genuine smile out of Justin. Jennifer Taylor took unwarranted rudeness against her son as a personal insult. Always had. Always would. Even Michael was not immune. "Are you sure about Brian? I think…" the smile quickly disappears from Justin's face and she trails off.

"It's over with Brian," he stands up walking to his dresser to start pulling out clothes for the day.

"You're a grown up. I respect your decisions where he is concerned. But Sweetie, you can't keep living like a hermit. It's not healthy!" Justin slams the drawer to his dresser and she jumps in surprise, biting her lip. He keeps his back to her and she steps up behind him, reaching out to touch his back. He's stiff under her hand, but he doesn't pull away. "I just want you to be happy. I love you."

"I know. I love you too," he replies and he lets her kiss his cheek, before picking up her purse and turning away.

"I'll see you for dinner?" she asks. "I'll get the stuff for stir fry at the store." He nods offering a small smile.

"Thanks, Mom."

Pittsburgh in November is just like he remembers: cold and icy, but also sort of oddly cheerful. It's a week before Thanksgiving and he's already seeing the beginnings of Christmas decorations starting to creep into the windows and store fronts. He doesn't want to be here, on Liberty Avenue. But, he needs that paint. It's just his luck that this particular brand, the stuff he'd fallen in love with way before moving to New York City, would only be sold in one store in all of greater Pittsburgh, and that the one store that carried it also happens to be right here in the one part of the city he's most likely to be seen. On the bus ride over he'd vowed to start pricing online when he gets home, and had decided to stock up on all of his favorite shades on this trip. He doesn't want to have to be coming back any time soon.

A half an hour and 60 bucks later he steps out of the store and back into the cold wintery air. Almost immediately he hears his name being shouted. He tenses, forcing a smile on his face. It's Emmett. Loud, gossipy, lovingly familiar, Emmett.

"Justin! Baby!" Emmett says hurrying closer. Justin turns to face him and accept his hug with welcoming arms.

"Hey, Em," he says in greeting, his smile more natural. He's missed Emmett. He's genuinely excited to see him.

"What are you doing here!?" Emmett asks, pulling back. Justin takes a deep breath, but Emmett keeps talking. "Oh I bet you're back for Thanksgiving! To visit your mom, am I right?" he asks. Justin shakes his head.

"Umm... I'm back. I moved back." Emmett's face falls.

"Ok, we're going to the Diner. You have some stuff to fill me in on, clearly," he says. He threads his arm through Justin's and starts walking in that direction. Justin has no choice but to follow.

The Liberty Diner hasn't changed a bit. It's exactly as chaotic and tacky, and loud as it's always been. Justin gets hit with a brief sense of HOME that's so profound he's glad to sit down in a back booth with Emmett. Debbie is thankfully not working that day. Emmett waits until Justin's ordered a milkshake and some french fries before beginning his interrogation.

"So spill. When did you get back? Last week?" he asks. Justin snags a paper napkin, and avoids looking at Emmett. He starts to fiddle with it, folding it into various shapes.

"Umm… two months ago," he says. When he hears no response he looks up at Emmett, who is staring at him in shock.

"Two months ago? Why didn't you tell me?" Emmett asks. Justin shrugs.

"I didn't tell anyone. I've been avoiding Liberty Avenue," he confesses. Emmett frowns.

"Justin, you have no reason to avoid Liberty. This street and every single thing on it are as much yours as anyone else's. I know things might be weird with Brian," Justin flinches, but Emmett keeps talking without acknowledging it, "but you are still one of us. You're still my friend." Justin forces a smile.

"I didn't think either Michael or Brian would want to see me around. It was easier to just stay away," he explains. Emmett screws up his face in understanding.

"Michael is just defensive. He'll get over it. I mean its Brian and Rage. Two of the things he loves most in the world." The waitress, Justin doesn't know her name, she must be somewhat new, brings over his fries and Emmett immediately snags one off the rim of the plate. Justin pushes it closer to him in invitation, reaching for the ketchup. "You have seen the newest issues haven't you? Since you stopped drawing it?" Emmett asks quietly, hesitant. Justin nods.

"Yes. Michael sends me an issue when he sends me my check for the proceeds. I was moving around so much while in New York, that he was sending them to my mom. She was forwarding them to me, but now that I'm back she doesn't have too anymore," he says reaching for the shake. His stomach hurts. He knows it's just the topic of discussion, so he keeps eating. "He always sticks the check inside. I think he gets a thrill out of knowing I have to flip through the issue, drawn by someone else, to find it." Emmett sighs.

"He was pretty angry when you said you wanted to quit illustrating it. The new guy, Chris, is ok I guess. I'm sure you haven't met him yet. Michael found him at a comic convention or something. He's pretty good, but I liked your Rage better," he leans closer, "and I know a lot of people who agree with me." He pauses for a minute, but then he continues, talking in hushed tones. "Sales are down, since he started drawing in your place." Justin bites back a smile. He's aware, but it touches him that Emmett feels the need to tell him.

"That might partly be the storyline, but who am I to critique? I can't pull out of the project and then start disagreeing with Michael's choices. It's his comic alone now." He eats another fry, swallowing it thickly. "Well creatively."

"I know. But Rage and JT adopting orphan alien babies?" Emmett asks. Justin snorts a little and hides his smile.

"Don't remind me!" he replies.

"One of them has tentacles!" Emmett says and Justin has to tilt his head back and just laugh. "Tentacles!"

"Don't!" he objects. Emmett grins at him. He reaches for Justin's hand where it rests next to the nearly empty plate.

"I'm glad you're back. But you still haven't told me why you left New York. Last time I heard you were doing good. Working. Selling pieces here and there. What's changed?" he asks. Justin shrugs, flipping his hand over to return Emmett's grip.

"I just needed to come home. It wasn't a singular reason for my leaving. It was just time to come back," this Justin knows is pretty much a big fat lie.

"So… you haven't seen Brian?" Emmett eyes him carefully and Justin shakes his head. 

"No. I told you. You're the only one who knows I'm here," he says. Emmett's eyes go wide, focusing on something behind Justin's back.

"Well Honey, that's about to change." Justin feels his face blanch. Even after all this time he knows who has just entered the diner. But he turns to verify. He looks over his shoulder and it is, of course, Brian Kinney standing there. He's taking off his coat, folding it casually over his arm as he walks to the counter. He hasn't noticed Justin yet, but it's only a matter of time. Justin gives Emmett a grimace, one that's half fear, half resignation. He pulls his coat back up over his shoulders, threading his arms through the sleeves in a practiced motion, tugging his scarf free of the pocket and starting to wrap it around his throat.

"We should get together soon," he says to Emmett. Emmett nods, but his eyes are still tracking Brian.

"Don't run. If you start now you'll have to keep running," he warns softly. Justin tenses but nods.

"I know." He stands up out of the booth reaching for his wallet. He pulls out a ten dollar bill and drops it on the table. "It was nice seeing you," he says. Emmett gets up too, and pulls him into another hug. "Next time, I promise, we'll catch up on what's been going on with you."

"I'll hold you to that. Good luck," Emmett whispers in Justin's ear. Justin pulls the strap to his messenger bag over his head, reaches down for his shopping bag, and turns around to face the music. He's almost expecting Brian's eyes to be on him, but they're not. He's still standing but leaning on the counter, sipping from a cup of coffee and waiting for his order to be wrapped up. His eyes are focused on the open pages of an abandoned copy of _Pittsburgh Out_. Justin squares his shoulders. He steps up beside Brian at the counter.

The waitress smiles at him.

"Do you need anything else, Honey?" she asks. Justin shakes his head and briefly wonders why she's the third person today to call him that. He glances at her nametag before responding.

"No, thank you, Patty," he says, voice warm. He sees Brian's whole body go rigid, his eyes rolling up and to the right to focus on Justin's face. He pushes himself upright to stand straight. His face is frozen, and Justin knows him well enough to read the emotions there. Shock, surprise, and a touch of hurt. "Hi, Brian," he says. Brian's so beautiful, and Justin's eyes roam his face. His cheeks are red from the cold, his hazel eyes just as expressive as ever before. His hair is longer, and his lips are just slightly chapped. He watches as Brian bites the lower one.

"Justin," he says. "You're back?" he asks. Justin nods.

"Yes," he replies. Brian's eyes are taking him in, following the lines of his body, before drawing back up to his face.

"For how long?" he asks rolling his tongue in his cheek. He turns to the waitress who is handing over his food in a Styrofoam container and looking overly interested in their conversation. He hands her a twenty. "Keep the change," he says, he stares at her until she moves quickly away. He drops his eyes, reaching for his coat. Justin forces himself to take a deep breath.

"For good," he replies. He watches Brian's startled blink at the news. "You're looking good," he replies. Brian lifts an eyebrow. "But then you always do. How have you been? Kinnetik? Gus?" he asks. Brian's tongue rolls in his cheek.

"I'm fine. Business is fine. Gus is fine. You?" Brian asks. Justin looks away.

"I'm doing ok," he says. Another lie. He's really stacking them up today. "I'm glad you're doing so well. I'll let you get back to lunch. Turkey on wheat, no mayo?" he asks. There's a quirk of Brian's lips in automatic response.

"Am I that predictable?" he asks. Justin offers a small smile.

"Only in what you order when you come to the diner," he replies. "It was good seeing you," he offers, zipping his coat. He wants to hug Brian, kiss him, climb inside his coat and never leave. Instead he looks down, pulling on his gloves and makes no move whatsoever to touch Brian. He knows if he does he won't want to stop.

"You too. Have you seen Debbie yet?" Brian asks. Justin shakes his head, meeting Brian's eyes.

"No. Not yet."

"Michael?" Brian asks. Justin just shakes his head again, looking away. "Tread carefully," Brian warns, pulling on his coat too.

"I wasn't expecting that to be a happy reunion. But thanks for the heads up." Brian purses his lips, and Justin looks away again. "I guess I'll see you around," Justin says, and turns away.

"Yeah, see you," Brian says, focusing intently on buttoning his coat. Justin leaves the diner, taking deep breaths of the cold air, and ignoring the sting in his eyes. He has a bus to catch.

It's later, over dinner with his mother that she asks how his day was. He smiles, tells her about running into Emmett, about seeing Brian. Concern takes over her face.

"How is Brian?" she asks. Justin shrugs, pushing the fried rice and beef stir fry around on his plate.

"He's good. He said the business is doing well and Gus is great. He looked happy. Healthy," he says. She makes a sound, and Justin blinks rapidly.

"Honey," she starts to say. But Justin shakes his head.

"It's fine. I always expected it to be hard." He looks at her and rolls his eyes. "I'm fine. It's been a year. It's no use crying about it all over again." She sighs, but doesn't say another word. Justin clears his throat. "How was the showing today? Find any buyers?" he asks. She grins.

"Yes. They loved it! It was that big house on Forest Lane. With the commission check I think I'll be able to put away some money for Molly's graduation present. She wants a car you know?" He nods. He knows. Craig had promised her one if she graduated with a 4.0. But Molly was struggling with her Calculus class, and it looked more and more each day like she was going to be getting a B at best. No 4.0 meant no car from Daddy. So naturally it fell to Jennifer to reward their daughter on her 3.98 GPA.

"When does she get back?" Justin asks. His sister is spending the weekend at Craig's house.

"Sunday night. I wanted to talk to you. Since I have Molly this year, I was considering doing a full dinner for Thanksgiving. But it seems like a lot of work for just the three of us. Debbie, however, invited me to eat with the family at her place. I told her I had to talk to Molly about it. But you do realize once she realizes you are back, she's going to insist we all show," Jennifer says. Justin sits back in his chair but grins a little.

"I figured she would. You know who else will probably be there," he says. She sighs.

"You've done nothing wrong. Let Michael bitch, he's so good at it!" she says and his laughter makes her grin into her wine glass.

Justin decides to bite the bullet and just go to see Debbie. The next day, he takes the bus down to Liberty Avenue and heads straight for the diner. He's picked the time between the lunch rush and the dinner rush. He knows there will probably be a little bit of a scene and he wants to avoid running into any of the guys while he's there. Debbie's laughter is the first thing he hears when he opens the door. She's standing by the corner booth, her back to the door.

"Be right with you!" she calls over her shoulder. Justin shrugs out of his coat and heads for an empty booth near the entrance. Debbie walks to the pick-up window, returning to the booth full of boisterous teens, with four plates full of grease and carbs. She turns around with a big smile, and her pad at the ready. She's halfway across the diner when she looks up and sees him. Justin smiles at her, even while he's unwinding his scarf. Her whole face lights up.

"Sunshine!" she practically screeches, her voice breaking in the middle. Justin laughs, standing up out of the booth to greet her as she flies at him. By the time she's done testing the strength of his ribs and smearing lipstick all over his face, they're both laughing. He sits back down, and she ducks into the booth seat across from him. "Justin, what are you doing home?" she asks. She has hold of his hands, bracelets rattling against the table top, and he smiles at her.

"I'm back, moved home a few weeks ago. I'm sorry I didn't stop by earlier. I had some stuff to take care of and well there are certain people I was trying to avoid. I hope you aren't too mad at me…" he trails off, giving her his 'aren't I cute' smile.

"You're damn right I'm mad at you! You have been entirely too incommunicado this whole last year! We got a lot to catch up on. Now I don't want any arguments out of you. You're coming with your mother and your sister to Thanksgiving. I won't take no for an answer!" she demands. He nods.

"We'd be happy to come. You don't think Michael will have a problem with it do you?" he asks. She frowns at him.

"I told you once, I'll tell you again. Michael doesn't speak for the rest of us. You're part of this family. His opinion is just that. His fucking opinion. Not anyone else's." The lecture is familiar and Justin nods. He'd hoped for as much but it's nice to have the confirmation.

"Tell me how you've been, Deb. How's Carl?"

He listens to her go a little giddy at talk of her "Hubby" before branching off into all the usual diner gossip.

"How is Michael? Ben and Hunter have been good right? Hunter's doing well in school?" They're all fine, she explains. Ben and Hunter were both happy and healthy. Hunter, is still in school and doing great, but he keeps switching his degree as he tries to figure out which direction he wants his life to go in once he graduates. Ben is working on a collection of short stories, and is almost done with the manuscript. She talks briefly about Michael. The shops doing ok, but it's the internet business that's really doing well.

"He's thinking about taking it solely online, but," she sighs, looking sad, "it pains him to think about closing the store front." Justin nods, frowning in understanding.

He tells her he ran into Emmett and Brian the day before. She eyes him a little carefully but he doesn't elaborate. She, for once, doesn't press, just starts talking about Blake and Ted and their decision to start looking for a house to buy together soon. That's about when the first part of the early bird dinner rush starts to pick up and they realize they've been talking for over an hour. The group of teenagers is gone, and when Debbie inquires about them the other waitress just smiles fondly at Debbie and tells her she took care of them for her. Debbie kisses Justin on the forehead, undoubtedly leaving another smear of lipstick behind.

"Don't be a stranger," she tells him, "and I'll see you on Thursday." It's more an order than an invitation. He nods, and she pats his cheek before letting him go. "Eat something, you're too skinny!" she calls as she walks away. Justin's suddenly so glad to be home.

He somehow avoids any run-ins with Michael or Brian for the rest of the week, possibly because he hides away in his mother's converted sunroom, painting like a fiend and avoiding any and all areas around Liberty Avenue. The following Thursday is, of course, Thanksgiving, and he climbs into the back seat of his Mother's car with Molly, both sitting in the back to avoid an argument over who gets shotgun, each of them balancing a homemade pie in their lap. One pecan and one pumpkin.

When they pull up to the house, every window is lit up, and there are cars lining the street. Molly looks at him with worry in her eyes, and bites her lip.

"You going to be ok, Justin?" she asks. He slings his arm around her shoulders.

"I'll be just fine," he tells her. She frowns and he's reminded suddenly of that fact that his little sister is 18 now, practically grown, and a senior in high-school. She's also much more perceptive than she'd been when she was his age.

"But isn't there a chance that Brian will be here?" she asks. He nods.

"Probably. But I can't hide from him forever," he nods to the pie. "Don't drop that. I haven't had grandma's recipe for pumpkin pie in ages. I've been drooling over that thing all day." She's giggling as she gets out of the car. Justin looks up and spies his mother watching him in the rearview mirror. She smiles and gets out, and Justin takes a deep breath before following. Debbie drags them all in with hugs and kisses. She greets Molly like a favorite Aunt, hugging her and calling her beautiful. Molly smiles and hugs her back. Carl greets them warmly, offering wine and other refreshments. They're fairly early and only half the guests are already there. Emmett, Ted, and Blake to be exact. Justin is greeted warmly by both Blake and Ted, and ends up perching on the arm of the couch closest to Emmett just to be close to a friendly face.

Brian arrives next, carrying a couple of bottles of wine. He's dressed casually, in jeans and a black button down. Justin sort of wants to climb into his lap and rub on him like a cat, but again refrains. He makes a mental note to start working on stopping those Brian related urges before they start. Brian's eyes land on him briefly before skittering uncomfortably away, and when he chooses where to sit, it's about as far away from the Justin as possible. Justin can't really blame him. Before he sits though, Brian greets Jennifer, with a surprisingly warm smile and a half-hug. She grins back at him, before going back to her conversation with Ted and Blake about their plans to start house-hunting soon. Brian ends up getting a beer and slumping into a dining room chair, turned around to face the living room, to watch the game, all with the kind of feigned interest only Brian Kinney is capable of. Justin can't fault him for his distance, he's just glad Brian has not reverted back to being callous and mean when Justin's in the same room with him, like he did the first time they broke up.

When Michael and Ben arrive, it's with Hunter in tow. The kid is taller than before, his hair shorter, but his jeans are just as baggy. He kisses Debbie on the cheek and calls her Granny. Justin half expects her to smack him but instead she just laughs and gives him a big wet kiss. Ben and Michael greet Carl, and then start making their rounds. It takes only a minute or so before Michael's eyes land on Justin, who automatically steels himself for the coming shit storm.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Michael asks. Justin ducks his head, scratching at the back of his neck. He desperately wants to down the glass of wine he's got dangling from his fingers, but he's limiting himself to two for the night, and it's still early.

"Hello to you too, Michael," he says in reply.

"Seriously? What are you doing here?" Michael asks, stepping closer. He looks furious, and Justin stares him down without flinching.

"I was invited. By your mother," he answers. Michael's eyes fly to his mother, looking betrayed.

"Don't you dare start tonight, Michael. It is Thanksgiving. Justin is part of this family, whether you like it or not," Debbie warns. Michael frowns at her.

"No he's not. He stopped being a member of this family when he dumped Brian as soon as something better came along. For the second time, might I add. He stopped being a member of this family when he fucked me over on the comic. I don't want him here!"

"Michael!" Brian's voice has Justin dropping his eyes, his fingers digging into his own thighs. "Enough."

"What?" Michael says. "You're going to defend him? Again!?" he scoffs. "Why is he even back here? Has he come to weasel his way back into your bed?" Michael spits.

"Yeah, Michael. That was totally my plan. That's why I've been back in Pittsburgh for over two fucking months and yet I've only seen him once! You have no idea why I'm back here, Michael. So why don't you for once just shut up!" Justin replies. He grits his teeth, and stands up, walking through the living room and out the back door. The room is left silent in his wake.

Justin walks to the end of the yard, arms folded across his chest, to ward off the chill. He closes his eyes and doesn't visibly react when the door opens and closes behind him. He's afraid to look and see who it is.

"I was afraid this would happen," he says, sure that's an appropriate response no matter who has followed him out.

"Well, Mikey can be a bit predictable in some things. I did warn you," the sound of Brian's voice has him whipping around. He's smirking, and holding out Justin's coat to him. Justin takes it gratefully, pulling it on.

"I didn't come here to make trouble," Justin confesses. Brian nods, looking away.

"I didn't figure you had. Of all the things you are Justin you have rarely been cruel or vindictive. And usually when you were it was because I deserved it, at least a little bit." Justin can't wait argue with that so he stays silent.

"What's going on in there?" he asks nodding toward the house. Brian glances over his shoulder to look at the house. The visual of the long line of his neck stretching back makes Justin look away.

"The usual. Debbie's yelling at Michael. Michael is yelling at Debbie. Blake is playing peace-keeper, while Ben and Carl are trying to drag them both back in to their opposite corners. Ted and Emmett are watching like spectators at a fucking boxing match. Your sister and Hunter are giggling in the corner and discussing the merits of AP classes verses intro college courses. You might want to watch her. He's got that look in his eye. And your mother is, of course, standing to the side glaring at Michael but letting Debbie deal with her own child. She understands boundaries, your mom does." Justin laughs at this news.

"My Mom's not too fond of him at the moment. And Hunter better not lay a hand on my sister," he grumbles. Brian smirks.

"Is that because he's a reformed gay-hustler turned straight or because he's HIV+?" Brian asks. The smile falls off Justin's face.

"Neither. It's because he's Hunter. Who has spent years trying to get into your pants, hates me for getting to you first, has a mouth like a sailor, and is an annoying little shit," he replies.

Brian laughs, "Fair enough," taking out a pack of cigarettes and pulling one free to light. Justin watches him for a minute, not sure what else to say. They stand in silence, the sound of a raised voice echoing from the house from time to time.

"So are you ever going to tell me why you broke up with me? Because I was sort of under the impression that we were making it work, long distance or not. You never gave me an explanation. Did you meet someone?" he asks. Justin shakes his head.

"Of course not," he says, tightening his arms around himself and bouncing in place. It is cold, even for November in Pittsburgh, and he wants to go back inside, but not right back into the middle of the fighting.

"Come on, let's go talk in my car." Brian heads around the side of the house. Justin reluctantly follows. Brian's car turns out to be a nice sized black SUV, leather interior. Justin climbs into the passenger seat, and sighs in pleasure when Brian starts up the car and the heater starts to blast. "So… you going to talk or are we going to just sit here?" Brian prompts.

"Brian Kinney wanting to talk. Will wonders never cease?" Justin says, looking out the window. He doesn't want to have this conversation.

"Justin," the name is sharp on Brian's tongue. Almost painful sounding. Justin sighs and he's suddenly dying for a cigarette.

"It was complicated."

"Explain it. I think I deserve that much. Don't you?" Brian asks, and there's something steely in his voice. Justin curls into himself in the seat. He knows he has to tell. Knows that Brian deserves the truth.

"You remember the last time you came to visit me?" he asks. Brian nods.

"Yes. We spent three days in your shitty little apartment fucking and smoking pot, with brief breaks so you could paint when inspiration struck," Brian recounts. Justin nods, an accurate representation of their last weekend together.

"About two weeks later I went to this club, and I got so plastered. I ended up taking this guy home. He was this big muscle-bound butch guy. Completely the opposite of my usual type, but he was hot. We went back to my apartment and he just fucked the shit out of me," Justin says. Brian's jaw clenches but he doesn't say anything. "And I was so wasted. I didn't even notice anything was weird until it was over." He looks away again, eyes focusing on some random point across the street. But he can feel Brian's eyes fixed directly on his face. "The condom broke," Justin says, and his voice sounds falsely amused. "The first time in 6 years of fucking who ever I wanted and that was the first time the condom fucking broke. That night. With him. When he realized he said to me. 'Oh shit. Sorry. Must have been a bit too rough, there.'" He mimics the guy's voice, shaking his head. "Then he tells me 'Now seems like the appropriate time to say I'm positive. You should probably get tested. Sorry. Sorry.'" He ignores the tear sliding down his face. He hears Brian's soft gasp, feels him move closer but Brian doesn't reach out, doesn't try and touch him.

"So I'm there. Alone. Freaking the fuck out. And I don't know what to say to you or to my mom or to anyone. I told everyone I was really busy with work, when I basically spent the next three months curled up in my room scared shitless, dodging phone calls and pretending that everything was fine." He sighs. "And then you called one day, and you said you wanted to come for another visit. And all I could think about was that I don't want you to know. I was so fucked up by then you'd have known in an instant something was wrong. So I begged off. I told you I was down with the flu, and I told you I would call you when it was a better time. Only I never called you back. I was waiting for the right time to take the test. Two more weeks and I'd take the tests, and have the results. I was thinking: If it's negative than it won't matter. I would be safe, and you could come and I'd never have to tell anyone." He pauses, his throat tightening. "Only it wasn't negative." He forces himself to look at Brian. He sees the wounded, terrified look on Brian's face, and he feels a physical pain blooming in his gut. "It was positive. I… am positive."

"Fuck… Justin?" Brian whispers and then Brian's hands are on him, and Justin's being tugged across the car and as far into Brian's lap as he can go with the steering wheel limiting their space. Brian's arms close around him, his hands moving restlessly over Justin's back and shoulders, down his chest, as if checking him for damage. "You're ok?" he says plaintively. Justin nods.

"As much as I can be," he replies. He's pressed close, and Brian's hands haven't stopped moving. Brian breathes shakily, his forehead pressed into Justin's neck. Justin catches his hands. "I'm ok," he says squeezing them.

"That's why you broke up with me? Why you told me it wasn't working out? That you wanted to stop pretending that we could be apart and together at the same time?" Brian asks. Justin nods. "You fucking shit," Brian says harshly, and Justin freezes. "I would have been there," Brian says, and his voice sounds so broken, that Justin feels the tears spill over. He wraps his arms around Brian's body, ignoring the way the gear shift is pressed into his thigh, and the bruise probably forming on his side from the steering wheel.

"That's why I didn't tell you," he whispers, letting one hand card through the back of Brian's hair.

They sit in silence for 15, maybe 20, minutes. Justin wonders why no one has come out to get them, but remembers his mother is in there, and she knows him too well to not realize what is probably going on.

"Michael's really angry," Justin whispers. He wants to break the silence, so he chooses a topic. He wipes at the residue of tears on his face. Brian scoffs.

"Michael is always looking for reasons to be angry," he replies, forehead pressed to Justin's temple. His arms are still wrapped around Justin's body, keeping him close. He'd at some point, reached down and moved his seat back, to give them more room, but Justin still shifts in his lap from time to time, uncomfortable.

"I just couldn't work on Rage. I couldn't draw you over and over. Draw Rage being happily married to J.T., to me, and know I'd never have that again. And I was not exactly at my sanest at the time. I just needed to cut all ties with Pittsburgh. It wasn't anything personal against Michael. I loved doing the comic. I really did. I just couldn't. Not with everything going on," Justin explains. Brian smirks against his cheek.

"It doesn't matter. Tell me how you're doing. What's your T-Cell count?" Brian asks pulling back to watch Justin's face. Justin sighs.

"I'm hovering right at 550. It could be better. Could be worse. They're trying to find the right mix of antivirals for me. I had a negative reaction to one about 6 months ago. I've been doing ok on the new mix but my CD4 should be higher," he explains. Brian's hands tighten on him.

"What kind of bad reaction?" he asks. Justin sits silent for a few minutes before responding. Brian waits patiently.

"I had a seizure. They think it was an allergic reaction to one of the minor ingredients in one of the meds."

"Who are you seeing here in Pittsburgh? Is this why you moved back?" and the questions continue. He tells Brian how he is seeing the best HIV specialist in Pittsburgh, that he has been so very grateful Brian never kicked him off the Kinnetik health insurance plan.

"I kept waiting to get word you'd dropped me. But it never came. Thank you for that, Brian," he says softly. Brian just shakes his head. Justin tells him how after he was hospitalized Jennifer had wanted to bring him home. He can be an artist anywhere, he only has one family to be there for him, and they are all in Pittsburgh. "I had to wait a few months. My father," he lets out a shuddering breath. "He told my mom if I moved into the house he'd sue her for full custody of Molly. Said he didn't want her exposed to me. I told her I'd come home, but that we had to wait. Molly turned 18 in September." He shrugs. "After that there was no way for him to do anything about me moving home. Molly just recently started talking to him again. She is still furious with how he acted."

It's another 20 minutes, almost a full hour since Justin walked out, before they climb out of the car, and head back inside. They step into the living room which is filled with a quiet tension. Justin tries not to flinch at all the shocked eyes turning to look at them. He also tries not to read too much into the fact that Brian won't let him get more than two inches away from his side, one arm clamped around Justin's waist. Justin looks to his mother, and she can tell by the red around his eyes what's been going on. She's by his side whispering to him within a few seconds.

"Justin, Honey, you ok?" she asks. He nods, looking at Brian and then her, attempting a smile.

"He told me, Jennifer," Brian says. "He should have told me when it happened." It's said softly, so quietly no one could overhear, even in the quiet of the room. She shrugs her shoulders.

"You try getting him to do something he doesn't want to do!" she says louder in exasperation.

"Are we going to eat?" Debbie asks, banging a pot in the kitchen. Everyone moves to the table, and Brian pushes Justin down into a seat, taking the one right next to it for himself. Justin smiles when Molly darts into the seat on his other side, smiling widely at him. Justin's grin turns into a frown when Hunter takes the seat next to her. The table is big but there are a lot of them. A card table is set up beside the big table, extending it to allow another few bodies to squeeze in. Once everyone is seated Debbie does her traditional Thanksgiving spiel and then food starts getting passed from person to person.

"I hate to break it to you Deb, but you and Carl might need to get a bigger table for next year," Emmett says. Debbie grins expectantly at Carl who laughs.

"We'll talk about it. The family does seem to keep growing and growing," he says. Jennifer clears her throat.

"It's a shame Melanie and Lindsay couldn't make it down with the kids. I haven't seen them in ages," she says.

"Michael and I went up in October for Canadian Thanksgiving. They'd have come down for the weekend, but it would have meant pulling Gus out of school," Brian explains. He rolls his eyes like he thinks that's not enough of a reason to blow off a family holiday back in the States.

"How are the kids doing?" Justin asks. "They must be getting so big."

Conversation stays mostly on non-controversial topics. Justin avoids looking in Michael's direction, which is difficult because he sits almost directly across the table from him. When dinner finally wraps up, Justin jumps up to help clear the table. It's the first time Brian lets him leave his side.

Debbie corners him in the kitchen, and manages to speak quietly for a change.

"Ok, Sunshine. Spill it. You guys were outside for so long the potatoes got cold," she says. Justin shakes his head.

"We talked," he replies. She grins at him.

"I bet that's all you did," she teases. Justin shakes his head.

"It is all we did," he replies, scraping food scraps into the trash. Raised voices coming from the living room has them rushing out. Michael and Brian are facing off next to the TV. Debbie starts to charge forward, but Justin grabs her arm, shaking his head. "Don't."

"I'm a big boy Michael. I can take care of myself. I don't need you trying to interfere. What happens between Justin and I is none of your fucking business!" Brian argues.

"You are my business. You're my best friend, Brian. And I'm yours! I was the one who was there the last three times he fucked you over. Excuse me for not wanting to have to do it all over again now that he's come strolling back into our lives! Again! He's just going to string you along like he did till he met Ethan, then like he did when he went to New York. I'm tired of him using you and then throwing you away when he gets tired of you!" Michael shouts. Justin sees Brian's fists tighten at the hated name.

"That's enough," Justin says, stepping over to them. Both turn to look at him. "This is fucking ridiculous. Michael," he faces the older man. "I am not here to mess with Brian's head. I'm not going to get tired of him and move on to something better or more exciting. That isn't what happened with Ethan. It isn't what happened when I was in New York. And frankly now isn't even comparable because Brian and I aren't together," he explains. Brian's forehead creases, and Justin makes a mental note to point out the wrinkles that form there next time Brian annoys him.

"The hell we aren't!" Brian snaps, hands on his hips. Justin closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. His inner 17 year old loves that sentiment coming out of Brian's mouth. But the adult in him knows that it isn't that simple.

"I'm in no fit state to be dating anyone right now, Brian, least of all you. You have to understand that. We aren't magically going to get back together just because I moved back home to Pittsburgh," he says.

"Yes, we are," Brian says. Justin almost smiles. He should have expected this, prepared for it somehow, but he hadn't even let himself consider that Brian would want him back. Brian, however, is still the stubborn control freak he always had been. Of course he would have decided they were back together, and would expect it to be that way now. Justin sighs instead of smiling.

"No, we aren't," he says calmly.

"I love you," Brian says, but it sounds more like an accusation than words of affection. Justin ignores the way everyone in the room seems to freeze in shock. Of course, none of them have ever heard him say it before.

"I know you do," he says softly.

"I'm saying it. In front of people," Brian says. Justin knows what that means for Brian, how hard it is. He moves closer.

"I know. But I don't want to hurt you," he says the words with emphasis, wanting to get the real meaning across. He sees Brian's eyes register the implication.

"You won't."

"You don't know that. You can't know that."

"Will the two of you stop talking in fucking code? I'm not done being righteously pissed off yet!" Michael snaps. Justin tries hard not to roll his eyes.

"Michael, you seriously need to grow the fuck up. Brian is an adult and so are you. You're married for God's sake! You have two children. You're not 14 years old and watching his back in the halls at school anymore. Brian fucks whoever he wants, whenever he wants. And if he wants to let himself love me it's none of your damn business. I know why you hate me. I know why you're angry. Well get over it. I loved working on Rage. I drew it for 4 years. That's a long fucking time. But I went through some shit a year ago, Michael. And I had to give it up. I didn't want to. I HAD to. You found a new illustrator. It's still selling! So just move on!" Justin snaps. The next 5 seconds go by in what seems like slow motion. Michael swings, Justin dodges, but feels Michael's fist graze the side of his head, hitting him hard in the ear. Then Brian is there, snagging Michael by the wrist and yanking him around.

"Michael!" he snaps. He shoves him away, and suddenly Ben is wrapping strong arms around Michael's waist and pulling him to the other side of the kitchen. "Justin?" Brian asks, reaching for him, but Justin yanks away, one hand clamped to his ear as he heads for the bathroom. "Justin!" Brian calls giving chase. Brian follows him up the stairs, Jennifer quickly following. Justin gets to the bathroom and flips on the light. He pulls his hand away from his still smarting ear. Praying he won't see blood. Brian hovers in the doorway, staring at him, Jennifer just behind.

"Honey?" she asks. Justin stares at his fingers, they're dry, no red visible. He tilts his head toward the mirror. The top half of his ear is red, a touch swollen, but not bleeding. He leans closer, touching it gently. Nothing. He lets out a sigh of relief, slumping against the counter.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Brian asks. Justin looks at him. Yes, desperately, but he's not going to run.

"No. I want some goddamn pie." He watches amusement flare quickly across Brian's face. Jennifer's laugh echoing down the stairs.

When they come back down they find Michael and Ben huddled in a corner, arguing softly with each other. Ben looks furious, but Michael looks murderous. Hunter stands a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes bouncing from one parent to the other and back again. Debbie is sitting on the couch, with Emmett on one side and Carl on the other, staring directly at the TV but not really seeing it, her face tense. The TV's playing some vaguely familiar Christmas movie. Justin thinks idly that for Debbie tomorrow will probably be spent up in the attic pulling down all the Christmas decorations. He sort of can't wait to see the over top result. He'd missed seeing the spectacle last year.

"No, Michael. Enough!" Ben snaps, bringing attention back to their corner. Justin's anger flares, and as much as he doesn't want to do this, he knows he has too. He can't let Michael do something that stupid again. They'll all find out eventually anyway.

He takes a deep breath and walks over to them.

"Michael," he says calmly, his face stony. Michael stops glaring at Ben to turn the glare on Justin. "Do not ever do that again," Justin says. Michael grimaces.

"Don't tell me what to do. I'll hit you if I want to," Michael snarks back. Justin closes his eyes trying to reinforce his calm.

"No. Michael you can't. You'd be fucking stupid if you did. Next time you might actually do damage. And as furious as I am with you right now I won't let you do that."

"Why? Worried your next career as a porn star won't pan out if I ruin your pretty little face?" Michael asks. Justin feels his face heat and not even the quietly offended gasp that can only come from Emmett (the ex-porn star) can stop his surge of anger.

"Fine, Michael. Hit me. Split my lip. Bloody my nose. Only be careful not to scrap your knuckles or get sprayed by the blood. I'd hate to add you to our little HIV+ family. But hey, you know all the statistics, if you want to take the chance, you go right ahead. Just be decent enough to make sure no one else is in the splash zone when you do it!" he growls, watching shock filter over Michael's face. He turns to the rest of the room, full of people looking at him in horror. "Now. Who wants some fucking pie?" he asks. No one says a word.

Brian ends up throwing a piece of pumpkin pie and a piece of pecan pie onto a paper plate, and pushing it into Justin's hands, then shoving him out the door, even as everyone around them continues to hurl questions at him, begging for clarification, for more information, for answers. Brian is close behind, following him out the door, their coats and Justin's bag thrown over his shoulder. Justin catches his mother's eye as the door closes between them, She looks vaguely amused, but also sort of horrified.

They get into the car without a word passing between them. Justin stares at Brian's profile as they drive, the radio off and the car quiet, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. Justin's cellphone ringing breaks it.

"Hello?" he asks. It's Jennifer.

"Honey, I know you're probably going to Brian's place. I just wanted to know if you had your meds with you? I figure you probably aren't coming back to the house tonight," she says. Justin fights not to roll his eyes. His mother has been great the last year, trying to mother him without smothering him. It's been sort of nice, how she tries to keep track of these things without overstepping boundaries. He can't be mad at her for caring.

"Yes. I have my meds. You know I always keep two doses in my bag," he says. She sighs.

"I just wanted to make sure. Just…" she trails off and Justin waits for her to finish. "Just promise me you'll actually talk to him. He gets a say in this too, Justin. You always used to complain how he made decisions about your relationship without giving you a say. You're doing the same thing."

"It's not the same thing," Justin says slumping in his seat. He's suddenly exhausted. Jennifer sighs.

"Just promise me you'll talk to him. That you'll listen to him too," she says.

"Ok," he says quietly.

"Good. I love you, Justin. You aren't in this alone," she says.

"I know. I love you too. I'll call you ok?"

"Yes, goodnight," she doesn't wait for a response before hanging up the phone.

Brian glances at him when they stop at a red light, but still doesn't say anything. Justin knows they have to talk, but figures it's best to just wait until they're at the loft.

It's been a year and a half since Justin has set foot in this place. The Loft. The one space in the world that is completely Brian's to do with as he pleases. Kinnetik is his too, but he filters it through the eyes of a good business man and employer. It's undeniably Brian's, but less so than this, Brian's private space. It's remarkably unchanged. The same open plan, same minimalist (but expensive) décor. But Justin notices every little thing that's different. There's a new rug under the dining table and chairs, the faucet's been changed out with a newer slicker model in the kitchen sink. The computer sitting on the desk in the corner is a fancier model, and there is a child's drawing, obviously Gus's, stuck to the front of the fridge. He hides a smile when he spots one of his paintings situated on the far wall. He doesn't say anything. Doesn't mention that it's a piece that he'd been working on during Brian's last trip to New York, but that had sold two months after they'd broken up. Somehow he's less than surprised.

Brian doesn't say anything, just slides the door closed and locks it, tossing his coat over a bar stool at the counter and heading for the fridge. Justin checks his watch as he follows. He drops the plate of pie pieces on the counter and digs out his meds. Brian sets down a bottle of cold water next to the pie, and then watches Justin as he counts out pills and sets them on the counter in a neat little pile. He glares at the meds for a second, as if it's their fault Justin has to take them, before turning back to the fridge. This time he returns with an icepack. Justin blinks at it confused. Brian reaches up to run a finger along Justin's red and swollen ear. Justin flinches, moving his head away at the sting.

"Don't be a big baby. You've had worse," Brian says, scooping up his bottle of water and the pie. He snatches two forks out of the utensil drawer on his way past Justin. Justin turns, watching him walk across the loft to sit on the couch. He arranges things on the table, opening his water to take a sip. Justin takes a deep breath, and turns back to the counter. It takes half the bottle of water to get all the pills down. He scoops what will be tomorrow morning's dose back into the box, and turns back to Brian. Brian who has shed his sweater and sits relaxed and beautiful in jeans and a black tank top, leaning back into the corner of the couch. He's slouching. It's hot. Justin swallows thickly, grimacing at the bitter flavor coating his tongue. He makes his way to the couch, strangely nervous and jittery. It's just Brian. It's just the loft. He has no reason to be stressing out.

He flops down on the other end of the couch, mimicking Brian's angle, and relaxing back into the corner.

"So now what?" he asks. Brian smirks at him. It's a familiar expression, warm and mischievous and enticing. It's a smirk that usually leads to an impromptu but steamy make-out session and the kind of fuck where they end up laughing through most of the foreplay before taking their sweet time in their quest to orgasm, too wrapped up in each other to worry about the endgame. Justin blinks and leans further back in his seat. He raises an eyebrow and waits for Brian to say something.

"Now? Pie!" Brian says. He hands Justin a fork, and turns further, curling his legs up under himself like a kid. He sits the plate on the cushions between them and makes a dive for the pecan slice with his fork. Justin laughs, shaking his head, and reaching out to cut off the pointy end of the pumpkin slice. Everyone knows that's the best part.

They eat in silence, both too wrapped up in savoring the homemade delights resting between them. Justin almost makes a crack about Brian's eating carbs after 7, but decides not to tease. He does note that Brian only eats a couple bites of each, before licking the tines of his fork clean and leaving it on the coffee table. He leans back into the arm of the couch, his head resting in his fist, elbow planted in the couch cushion to his left. He tries to ignore the way that Brian is staring at him.

"Don't think our earlier conversation is over," Brian warns. He watches Justin poke at the leftover crust of the pumpkin pie piece. It's a tiny bit burnt, but Justin doesn't mind. It's always a little burnt when his mother makes it. It's how you know it's homemade, not store bought.

"There isn't really much more to say," he replies, dropping his fork to the plate and snatching up the crust. He pops it in his mouth, crunching away at it and closing his eyes. It tastes like Thanksgiving, and home, and family. He doesn't want to have this conversation tonight. It's too much work to want Brian and love Brian and lust for Brian while being with Brian and pushing him away all at the same time.

"Did you…" Brian pauses, as if unsure what to say. "Did you breakoff what we had," he continues and Justin can't help but roll his eyes that Brian still can't refer to it as a relationship, "because you didn't want to be with me or because you didn't want to infect me?" he asks. Justin sighs, setting the empty plate and fork on the table.

"I broke it off with you because I had just received some of the worst news I could possibly imagine ever having to receive and I didn't know what to do. I knew how you would likely react, and I didn't want to…" he sighs again, scrubbing a hand through his hair and bumping his sore ear, grimacing in irritation at the sting. Brian stands up wordlessly and goes to retrieve the forgotten icepack. He hands it to Justin, and returns to his previous spot on the couch, only he's strangely several inches closer than he was before.

"What?"

"I didn't want to trap you into taking care of me. I didn't want to make you feel obligated in any way. I was terrified for the first few months. I felt like I was a ticking time bomb ready to explode at any moment. You'd have called me fucking pathetic, Brian! I was so scared I was going to give it to someone else, you most of all! It was safer to end what we had. If I did that then my biggest fear, out of all of the new terrors I was facing, was gone and no longer an issue." He tries to explain the fear he felt. That somehow he'd give it to the love of his life. It was his biggest concern when he found out, that somehow he'd infect Brian, make him sick, be forced to watch him slowly waste away and know it was his fault. Is it healthy, he wonders in the safety of his own brain, for someone to worry more about watching someone they love die, than to worry about their own death? He thinks back to when Brian had cancer, and to the thoughts he'd had late at night when he'd first found out. The pleas to a deity Justin wasn't even sure he believed in. "Please," he'd prayed, "if one of us has to be sick, why can't it be me instead of him?"

"It wouldn't have been a trap, Justin," Brian says quietly, and Justin can see the storm brewing in his head, notes the way Brian's hands keep opening and closing in his lap, like he's fighting not to reach out and touch. "It's not a trap if someone walks in voluntarily with open eyes. You know I love you. If you're sick, I want to be there for you. Being positive doesn't change anything. You're the one who was furious when I didn't tell you about the cancer. It's the same thing. We were partners. Even with you in fucking New York we were still partners," he says. Justin shakes his head.

"It's not the same thing, Brian. Cancer happens to you, it's not something your actions bring about. Testicular cancer strikes randomly. Ultimately it was my actions that made me positive. Your pushing me away was about your pride, not fear that somehow you'd give me cancer too." Justin replies. Brian scoffs.

"You didn't earn being infected with HIV. You didn't know he had it, you didn't ask the condom to break. And your whole argument is so childish," Brian replies. He mimics Justin's voice: "Cancer happens to you. Your actions don't bring it about." He scowls. "Would it have been my fault if it was lung cancer that made me sick? Would that have been more like you being positive? If I hadn't smoked all those cigarettes? If you hadn't fucked that trick?" he shakes his head. "It's all bullshit. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't deserve it. No one does. But I didn't deserve having the man I love break off a 6 year relationship without an explanation. You took my choices away from me Justin. That wasn't fucking fair." Justin looks down again, picking at the fraying cuff of his jeans.

"To be honest with you, I had more selfish reasons behind what I did," Justin says. Brian's mouth hardens into a thin pale line, but he doesn't reply, just lets Justin talk. "I didn't want to have to tell you. I didn't want you to know. For anyone to know. Because if you knew," Justin pauses to breathe, feeling his throat tightening with emotion. "If you knew than it was real. It was undoubtedly really happening. If I stayed in New York, if the only ones who knew were me and my doctor, than it was contained. No one would look at me different, or treat me different, or judge me. No one would shy away from hugging me or from sitting next to me. No one would act like breathing the same air as me could put them at risk. I've always cared about making you proud of me, Brian. You told me the night before I left that I had finally become the best homosexual I could possibly be. And less than two years later there I was, positive. You can't fuck up much more than that." Justin avoids looking at Brian.

"None of us would have done that, Justin, surely you knew that," Brian says, and his voice sounds tired, stressed. Justin still doesn't look at him. "Look at Vic, Ben, Hunter. No one ever treated them different because they were positive. None of the family at least," Brian corrects. Justin shrugs. "And don't feed me any bullshit about Positives and Negatives not being able to make it work. Just look at fucking Ben and Mikey."

"They're different," Justin replies.

"How are they different, Justin?" Brian asks.

"Because Michael had a choice," Justin says, voice firm, concrete. "Michael met a guy and he liked him, and that guy said 'Hey I'm positive, so be sure you can deal with that before you fall in love with me.' Michael went into that relationship with his eyes wide open about what he was getting. About the dangers and the hardships of being with a HIV positive person. He chose to fall in love with someone who was positive. We were… different." Brian's fists tighten once more and he stands up, moving angrily away from the couch.

"You think Michael chose to fall in love with Ben?" he asks, voice harsh, angry. Justin watches him with nervous eyes. This is exactly what he didn't want to have to deal with tonight. "You think I chose to fall in love with you?" Brian says the words like they're an accusation. "For fucks sake Justin it took me almost 5 years to admit it out loud! I fought it every fucking inch of the way. We broke up over and over again, and still I fucking loved you, more and more each time we got back together, and you think it was a choice!" he practically screams the words. And Justin stands up, wanting to walk closer but weary of touching him. "It was never a choice," Brian says, voice low and vicious.

Justin doesn't know how to respond to that right away so he doesn't say a word. He watches Brian wander the loft, looking anywhere but at Justin. Justin finally cautiously approaches Brian.

"That's not what I meant. Michael walked away from Ben. Do you remember that? He couldn't deal and he walked away. It was only later that he decided that he liked Ben too much already to not pursue a relationship with him. But it was a choice. He could have moved on, dated someone else. He made the choice to go back to him. And after he did, he fell in love with him. But he did have a chance to walk away. He decided not to. You... I took your choice away. I was a persistent little shit. And my ass was too enticing for you to be able to say no." Justin pauses then, watching amusement flicker across Brian's face before disappearing again. "By the time I became positive we'd both already fallen. Brian just try and think for a minute. If you found out you were positive… what would be your biggest fear?" Justin asks. Brian tenses, turning to face Justin head-on.

"That doesn't make this ok," Brian says.

"I'm not saying it does," Justin says softly. This time it's Brian approaching him. He looks determined, resolute. Half of Justin wants to turn around and run. The other half wins, keeping him rooted to the spot, anxiously awaiting whatever it is Brian is going to do. Brian steps closer and the look in his eyes is so hungry, so possessive that Justin can't move away. His dick gets hard in seconds, and his breathing rate quickens, but before Brian even reaches out to touch him they're interrupted by a banging knock on the metal loft door. The look on Brian's face makes Justin step backward and almost laugh. "Just like old times?" he asks. Brian raises one eyebrow and goes to answer the door.

The door slides back, and Justin feels an unexplainable feeling of relief at the sight of who is standing on the other side.

"Ben," he says quietly. Ben leans in the open doorframe, his hands shoved in the pockets of his suede jacket, a pained look on his face.

"Hey, Justin." Brian nods him inside. Closing the door behind him and offering him a drink. "A beer would be great, thanks," Ben says, shedding his jacket. Justin doesn't know what to do. His thoughts about Ben are all jumbled. This is Michael's husband. And while Justin isn't naïve enough to think Ben approves of all of Michael's behavior, he also knows that Ben loves Michael more than anyone else in the world. He doesn't know what to expect from the good professor.

Ben makes his feelings perfectly clear though when he walks across the loft and pulls Justin into a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry, Justin," he says quietly. Justin nods, hugging him back, and suddenly he feels exhausted. Emotionally and physically exhausted. He sighs, pulling away to sit down on the couch. Ben follows, sitting down beside him. "Tell me everything," Ben orders.

Justin nods, but his eyes are focused on Brian walking through the loft. He slides around the couch handing an open bottle of beer to Ben, setting another bottle of cold water in front of Justin. Then he scoops up the ice pack, once more abandoned on the coffee table and presses it to Justin's ear. Justin gives him an exasperated look but Brian just stares at him until he reaches up to hold the ice in place. Brian smirks at him, moving away to flop down in a nearby chair. Justin turns to Ben, who's watching and waiting patiently, beer already sliding down his throat. Justin takes a deep breath and starts to talk. Again.

Ben asks him about everything. How long he's known. What meds he's on, side effects, previous complications. Who he's seeing in Pittsburgh. His diet, exercise routine, recent test results.

Justin's needed to do this for over a year. He's needed to just sit down with someone who he knows and trusts, a friend, who knows exactly what he's been going through. Who knows exactly what to say, how to reassure and support. And he's almost pathetically grateful.

Ben nods along, offering suggestions and asking for clarification when he needs it. They talk for nearly an hour, before Ben says he has to get going. Justin stands up with him, walking him back to the loft door. They leave Brian sprawled in his chair, where he'd sat silently watching them talk the entire time.

"Justin," Ben says, as he pulls on his coat. "You're going to be ok. This isn't the end of the world." Justin nods and feels his throat closing up a little. Ben hugs him again. "We'll meet on Monday at the gym, hmm?" he says stepping back. Justin nods again. He feels like he's been doing that the entire evening.

"I'm willing to start working out, even try to eat better. But Ben, you aren't going to get me to eat tofu." Ben laughs in response. But it fades quickly, a serious expression overtaking his face. Justin pulls the loft door open for him. Ben steps out into the hallway, but doesn't turn to leave. He looks at Justin for a second, before looking over the shorter man's shoulder to focus on Brian, and then looking back to Justin. When he speaks again it's quietly, meant for Justin's ears only.

"It's Brian's decision if he wants to risk it. You can't make his choices for him. What will it accomplish to keep him at a distance other than making you both miserable? Just because you're positive doesn't mean you can't be happy. Just be safe," he says.

"It's hard, knowing it would be him who suffers if something happened."

"I know." And Justin knows that Ben really does know. Thinks about Michael, and how much Ben honestly and completely loves him. "He's a good man. You two deserve a shot." Justin can't do anything but grin in reply. "Don't worry about Michael. He'll come around." Justin nods. Ben waves to Brian, squeezes Justin's shoulder, and turns, heading down the stairs. Justin watches him disappear around the corner. Then he takes a deep breath, pulling the loft door closed and locking it. When he turns back around Brian is there, standing in the middle of the loft, his shoes gone, and his hand resting on his flat stomach. Justin can't completely read the expression on his face, just that he looks intent, and all of his focus is aimed directly at Justin. And then Justin knows.

Justin has a momentary flash of panic. What if things aren't the same between them? Sex… fucking has always been the one thing about their relationship that just worked, cancer or bashing caused issues aside. They had always matched each other perfectly. Sex drive, refractory period, physical size and shape. Even their likes and dislikes, though Justin often thinks Brian definitely had a major hand in training him in what to like during his most formative sexual years. Still it had almost been like they were made for each other, to fit together that way. The thought of something affecting that is terrifying. What if he's different now? What if Brian, who seems so much like his old self but also different somehow, is just altered enough to throw everything off? What, and this is what makes his gut clench tying him up in knots of fear, what if there's an invisible plus sign imbedded in his insides now that changes everything?

His fears are unfounded because the moment Brian's hands touch him, the second Brian's lips take possession of his own, he's lost in it. It's like the last year and a half never happened. Like he'd never gone off to New York, never gotten infected, never broken things off with Brian. It was like nothing at all had changed between them. And things were just as perfect and amazing as they had ever been before.

Their first time together in so long starts out like a fuck. It's frantic and desperate. It's a mad dash scramble across the loft floor. It's grabby hands, and clothes littered across the hardwood trailing from one side of the loft to the other. Justin finds himself flung down in the center of the bed, Brian's larger body pinning him to the mattress, mouth swollen from kisses, and skin slick with the beginnings of a light sheen of sweat. But somewhere along the line it changes. The desperation eases away but not the need, and the kisses turn loving and soft instead of hard and hungry. By then Brian's slicked up Justin's ass, stretched him with 2 then 3 fingers. He retrieves a condom from the bowl by the bed and Justin leans back against the mattress to watch him. Brian holds it up, his eyes serious and intense.

"Put it on me," Brian says, voice echoing the past, and Justin nods. He takes the packet from Brian's offered hands, rips it open, tossing the wrapper away and then pauses. He stares at the little roll of rubber, a lump forming in his throat. Brian's hand closes around his, recapturing Justin's attention. He bends down, his lips sliding across Justin's, soft and teasing. "Come on," Brian says, his lips hovering against Justin's. "Come on," he says again, his voice tight with emotion. Justin nods, opening his mouth against Brian's, and twisting his hand away from Brian's. He rolls the condom down the length of Brian's erection, enjoying the feel of Brian's velvety skin under his fingertips, the hot, heavy weight of his dick, familiar and addictive.

Justin flops backward to rest flat on his back, letting Brian move and position him as he wants him, pulling Justin's right knee up to rest on his shoulder, his left leg wrapped around Brian's waist. He holds Justin's body close and the first press of his cock into Justin's ass is like a homecoming. Justin arches into it, moaning as Brian slides deep. Justin's blinks back tears of pain, physical and emotional, his eyes tracing up Brian's torso, his flushed chest and neck, to meet Brian's. Brian's staring at him, mouth open and panting, eyes clear as he draws his hips back and then thrusts forward again, slow and controlled. Justin groans at the sweet sharp pleasure of Brian's dick pushing across his prostate. It's perfect. It's everything he's been missing and longing for since that last time with Brian in New York the year before. But it's not enough. He wants more. He needs more.

Justin can't help but reach for him, sliding one hand up Brian's shoulder, to curl around the back of his neck. He threads his fingers through the slightly sweaty hair there. His other hand reaches down to grasp Brian's ass. Trying in vain to pull his hips into Justin's faster and harder.

Brian resists, keeping the same steady rhythm he'd started off with, not letting Justin dictate the pace, not letting either of them be rushed. Justin, growing desperate, cries out and tightens his grip on Brian's dick and his hair, almost growling with want and need.

That familiar smirk slides across Brian's features, and Justin huffs in response. Brian stills his hips, leaning his face down to hover over Justin's, eye to eye.

"You aren't in charge this time, Sunshine. This one is all mine. So just relax and enjoy the ride," he says, his smile devilish and enticing. Justin arches up, licking into Brian's mouth and panting against his lips when the kiss breaks.

"Fuck me!" he begs. But Brian leans away, shaking his head. He starts that slow maddening movement of his hips again, but there's a soft smile on his lips when he answers.

"That's not what this one's about," he says, yanking Justin's hips up into his with more force. Justin yelps in surprised pleasure, but he doesn't take his eyes off of Brian. And then Justin gets it. He understands. He nods, his hold changing on the parts of Brian he can reach. His hands grip but don't pull. His hips shift up into each thrust, but don't drive up against them. He squeezes the back of Brian's neck, and Brian leans down again, his lips grazing Justin's softly before pressing closer against them. Justin's breath catches at the tenderness of the kiss. He slides his left hand up Brian's back, his arms tugging Brian's body as flush to his own as he can get in that position. Justin shakes his head, dropping his right leg from Brian's shoulder, wanting the other man's body closer, even if the shift in angle means Brian's dick will slide just a little bit less deep with each thrust. Brian readjusts easily, bracing one hand behind Justin's head on the mattress, and sliding the other around Justin's lower back, to pull him up into each rocking motion of his hips.

Justin's eyes slip closed, his head arching backward. Brian buries his nose in Justin's neck, re-familiarizing himself with Justin's smell and taste and feel. He kisses down Justin's throat, and across his shoulder, luxuriating in the silky texture of Justin's skin, and the shudders rocketing through Justin's limbs. He shifts position, freeing one hand to trace the shape of Justin's face, to follow the line of his long neck, and the curve of his shoulder. He presses it to the center of Justin's chest, feeling the beat of his heart, and the expansion of his lungs with each gasping breath. Bending down he presses his forehead to Justin's and grazes his mouth over Justin's swollen lips. Licking inside, he groans, and picks up the pace of his pounding hips. Justin arches, hands winding around Brian's back to keep him close, legs spread wide, knees up, and heels sliding across Brian's muscular thighs. Brian reaches down and grips Justin's dick. It's slick and hard as steel, and he gives it a twisting squeezing pull that has Justin crying out hoarsely, and coming between them. His ass clenches around Brian's dick and Brian thrusts deep and stays, coming with a shout.

Justin stares up at the loft ceiling, fighting to regain his breath, his legs curling back up around Brian's hips, keeping his lax body pressed close. He's collapsed on top of Justin, and his head rests on the smaller man's chest, right over his still racing heart. His eyes are closed, and Justin thinks in that moment that he's never been more beautiful, relaxed, sweaty, flushed with pleasure and smiling with contentment.

A half an hour later and they're curled up together under Brian's covers. They can't stop touching each other, hands trailing over backs and shoulders, arms, and chests. They're reconnecting physically after so long apart. The easy familiarity of touch becoming second nature again. Justin's warm, comfortable curled up against Brian's side. Maybe that's why he's able to say what he does. Open up the way he does.

"When I was in New York, I used to have this daydream," Justin pauses, readjusting his position. They are both flat on their backs, legs entwined, and shoulders touching. Brian has Justin's right hand sandwiched in between his own, and is gently rubbing it, just like he used too. When Justin starts to talk he turns his head to stare at the side of Justin's face, but Justin feels like he has to get this out and he's not sure he can do it looking into Brian's eyes. "Sometimes I'd dream it at night while I slept, but more often it was in the middle of the day, or right before I passed out. I can't tell you how often I'd think about it." He pauses again and Brian smirks.

"Well, are you going to tell me about it or not? I hope it's something really kinky, or I'll be so disappointed." Justin shakes his head, and reaches down to smack him in the thigh. Brian laughs, recapturing his hand again, going back to his slow gentle rubbing.

"No. Not kinky really. It was us. We were together. Really together. Happy and content. Almost domestic. We lived at Britin and it took place in the future. I'm not sure exactly when. We were both older. I had lines forming around my eyes and you," Brian interrupts him.

"I hope I'm still fucking hot!"

"You are. You're still the most beautiful man I've ever seen. But you are older, and there are grey flecks in your hair. Right at the temples."

"Fuck no. Not gonna happen. I will dye every hair on my head twice a month for the rest of my life before I go grey!"

"Stop being such a drama queen!" Justin says. He turns on to his side, pulling his hand away to support his head, elbow pressed into the mattress next to Brian's shoulder. He rests his left hand on Brian's chest, right between his pecks, feeling his heart beating under his palm, but he doesn't lift his eyes to meet Brian's. Instead his eyes trace the lines and curves of Brian's body. It's not changed much in the last year. If anything Brian has obviously been working out more, and the muscles of his chest and abdomen, and especially his arms, are more defined than Justin has ever seen before on him. Suddenly he's itching to draw Brian again. To record every little detail of his face and body. Take down all the subtle differences and luxuriate in all the parts of him he's literally been aching for. To study him and get him down on paper just as he is in this moment. He curbs the impulse though.

"Hmm… and what are we doing in this fantasy? You aren't changing my diapers and powdering my ass are you?" Justin laughs, shaking his head.

"No, of course not. Besides if we ever wanted to do roleplaying games we both know who would be cast in the role of Daddy and who would be playing the part of cranky little Sonny Boy." Brian splutters and for a moment Justin starts to falter and almost changes his mind.

"So what then? What's so fantastical about this little daydream of yours?" Brian asks, and he turns toward Justin, his body pressing closer, arm sliding around Justin's waist. Justin's eyes dart away from his face, his body tensing.

"In the dream we're both still beautiful. We're both healthy and we've made a life together. We're so in love, and we're making it work. When it starts off I'm working in my studio. I'm finishing a painting and I'm talking on the phone. I've been offered a solo show at some small but prestigious gallery in New York. Which one doesn't matter, it always changes. And then you come in and I tell you and you're so proud of me," Justin explains. Brian grins.

"Well, I'm proud of you now. Consider that fantasy fulfilled," he teases. Justin rolls his eyes dramatically in response, but inside a thrill races through him. Some part of him will always react like a teenager when Brian praises him like that. But he sobers a few seconds later.

"That's not where it ended," he says, and Brian must hear something in his voice, because he doesn't reply, and the teasing expression evaporates off his face.

"Just tell me, Justin," he says, and Justin does.

"When I look back objectively over what I've lost or things that have changed in the last year and a half... there isn't all that much. Not really. I can't give blood, but ironically I never could. I can't have kids, but that was never really going to happen anyway. I can't bleed all over the place and just leave it. But I never would have done that before anyway." Justin stares at him hard. "The only thing I really lost out on ever getting to have is sex with you without a condom." He looks away. "Which is stupid because I never would have got to have that anyway," he murmurs.

"Jesus, all of the things to be broke up over…" Justin flinches, but Brian doesn't let him pull away. "Justin, I've lived my entire life without that, because it's stupid, and reckless, and just dangerous enough that even I won't go there. But..." he scrubs a hand over his face and shakes his head. "If there is anyone on this entire planet I have ever even considered fucking bareback it's you. But this… the mere thought that I could be the reason you ended up positive.. That's why it was never more than a brief thought."

Justin stares at him in shock.

"You wanted to?" he asks.

Brian rolls his eyes.

"I briefly considered…" Justin grins his biggest sunshiney grin. It feels almost foreign after being absent for so long.

"You wanted to!" he accuses.

Brian rolls over, pining Justin to the bed, covering his mouth with one palm.

"Ok, yes. I wanted too. Are you happy now?" he asks. Justin nods under Brian's hand, eyes crinkling up at the corners with happiness. Brian pulls his hand away, suddenly serious again. "Can that be good enough?"

"More than good enough," Justin replies, leaning up to kiss Brian again.

And really it feels like it will be.


End file.
