Title: VICE VERSA
Rating: NC 17
Summary: Justin and Daphne are on the brink of becoming parents when Brian enters the picture. An angst-free little AU, comprised of equal parts canon and non-canon. How many twists can you spot, accounting for the title?
A/N: Many thanks to techgirl_on_ij for rising above and beyond the call of a normal beta,
without whose help this fic would literally not have been possible, and whose porny brain rescued it from dullness in several instances.
VICE VERSA - CHAPTER TWO
Baby Girl Taylor's father and grandmothers watch her squirm in her plastic bassinet through the nursery window. Swaddled in pink, the tiny thing isn't exactly crying, but she's not entirely happy either.
Jennifer turns to Justin, a bit worried. "I hope she won't be a fussy newborn like you were. You always wanted to be held."
"Then we'll hold her!" Justin laughs, his jubilant mood not about to be squelched by a baby, his baby, who might want to be held. "I'll be right back. I want a friend of mine to see her."
Jennifer recalls the handsome guy who'd driven Justin to the hospital and come in with him. She assumed he'd left hours ago.
"Our kids have created a gorgeous baby." Dorothy brings Jennifer's thoughts back to her granddaughter, whose vocal cords are now working quite well.
"They certainly have. Five pounds, two ounces of pure joy!" Jennifer admires the baby's amber colored skin, indicative of both her biracial mother and uncommonly fair father, coupled with fine wisps of golden hair, obviously inherited from her own Scandinavian roots. At one hour old, anyone can see that she'll blossom into a pretty little girl who'll turn heads wherever she goes.
"Mom, Mrs. Cha- I mean Dorothy, this is my friend Brian."
"Nice to meet both of you." Brian shakes hands with the women before Justin pulls him up to the window and points to the wailing Baby Girl Taylor.
"There she is! There's my daughter!"
The four of them watch how quickly the baby quiets down when a nurse gently lifts her out of the bassinet and soothes her cries.
"A drama queen already!" Brian turns to Justin and smiles. "But a beautiful one."
The child's grandmothers think Justin's new friend can stay. Evidently, he has impeccable taste when it comes to babies.
Justin checks the time. "I'm going to see how Daphne's doing. If she's up to it, I'll bring her out here." In a matter of minutes, he wheels an elated, albeit exhausted, new mother toward them. "Daph, this is Brian. Brian, this is my best friend and the mother of my daughter, Daphne."
"Hi, Daphne." Brian takes her hand and kisses the back of it.
Daphne giggles. "Justin, he's hot!"
Laughter all around breaking the ice, Brian peeks at the baby again through the nursery window. "What's her name?"
Daphne glances at Justin. "Well, we were thinking of our grandmothers' names if we had a girl, but we thought we'd have a little more time to decide. She's two weeks early."
"Grandmother Melissa would be so proud if you named the baby after her!" Dorothy thanks God for sending her angelic daughter back.
Jennifer thinks of her deceased mother and frowns. "I thought you didn't care for Grandma's name, Justin."
"I started liking it a whole lot more when I found out how much money she left me! Old alcoholic Victoria will never know how much that decision means to us."
Daphne nods. "We'll be able to rent the largest unit at the Spruce Street Arms, thanks to her generosity. I can't wait to move in there and get settled!"
Brian takes one more look at the infant on the other side of the glass and grins. "Melissa Victoria Taylor. You could call her Missy."
. . . . .
"Brian?! Brian, where are you?!" Michael pounds on the loft door like a madman, grimace firmly in place when Brian finally slides it open.
"Oh. Hi, Mikey." He clearly wishes it were someone else standing there. "What's the problem?"
"Problem? What's the problem? Where in the fuck have you been? That's the problem!" Michael storms into Brian's kitchen and throws his car keys onto the breakfast bar. "Why don't you roll us a joint? Let's get high."
Brian shakes his head. "I don't have any weed. I gave all my stash to Ted and Emmett." He pours himself a scotch and prepares for the rant that's sure to come. "You want a beer?" He knows Michael doesn't drink hard liquor. Give him a six-pack, though, and he's set.
"You gave your stash away?!" Michael pops the top of the can Brian lobs to him and gulps some down. "What the fuck did you do that for?"
"I just think I need to grow up a little."
"Grow up a little?! Then why have you been looking for that stupid blond twink everywhere?"
"Come on, Mikey. No need for name calling." Brian wonders if Michael's already had a six-pack. He usually puts much more effort into concealing his resentment.
"So what about last night? We always party at Babylon on Friday nights, but how long were you there? Twenty-two minutes. And what did you do during those twenty-two minutes?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me."
"You snapped your head toward the door every time someone came in, you only had one shot of Beam, and you turned down four blow jobs and three asses to fuck." Michael swipes his hand through his hair. "And what about the night before that?"
"What about it?"
"We've been meeting in Woody's after work for years so you can plow any lucky bastard from behind you want, but no one looks good enough for you to fuck anymore. And do you know how many games of pool you've lost to me - ME! - during the last two weeks?"
Brian shrugs. "No, I haven't been keeping track."
"Eight! I've won eight times! And Marco's totally pissed about the felt on the corner table. I've never seen you scratch like that. Ever!"
"I've got a lot on my mind, Mikey, okay?" Brian refills his drink and steals a peek at the time. Almost nine forty-five. He slips into his shoes and puts his wallet in his pocket.
"And don't think I haven't noticed you cruising that fucking streetlight every night at ten o'clock! Do you think he's gonna show up some night at the same time you met him, under the same lamppost, just to be all romantic or something?"
The thought has crossed Brian's mind.
Exasperation oozes from Michael's pores. "Well?"
"Did he happen to give you his phone number or tell you where he lives?"
"Oh, my God, Brian!" Michael seriously considers some form of medical intervention. "Do you hear yourself? You don't smoke weed anymore, and you're completely smitten with a seventeen-year-old boy?! I can't believe you!"
"He's very mature for his age."
. . . . .
"If you could sign here, sir, please."
Justin autographs the invoice and pays the movers in cash, he and Daphne, with Missy sound asleep in her arms, standing in their new living room taking it all in. "What do you think? After we get the boxes unpacked, will it feel like home?"
"Are you kidding? I'm so happy, Justin! This complex is the nicest one in Southern Hills, and it's just a few miles away from our parents. I love it!" Daphne shifts her month-old daughter up against her shoulder and walks over to the open area that's designed to be a small sitting room between the two master bedrooms. "This is perfect for her room. Can you find her cradle? She's starting to get heavy."
"Yeah, I'll look for it." Justin searches through the boxes marked BABY and comes back with the little bed. "Your mom got all teary-eyed when they loaded up the crib. Did you see that? But last night she was telling your dad and me how to collapse it for easy moving and everything. I thought she was okay with us getting our own apartment."
Daphne lays Missy in the cradle, where she stretches and yawns and promptly falls back to sleep. "My mom gets really emotional sometimes, but she's known about our plans from the beginning. With you sleeping there every night to help me with the baby, I think she just got pretty attached to our little family. She'll be all right."
"I hope so 'cause when she hugged me good-bye, it felt like she'd never let go. For a minute there, I thought we were gonna have to live with your parents forever." Justin assembles Missy's changing table and is just about to unfold her full-sized crib when Dapne pulls him away from the alcove.
"Come on. Let's relax for awhile. You've been on your feet all day." She shoves a box full of her shoes on the sofa over to one side and plops down.
Justin puts the box on the floor and sits next to her. "God, it does feel good to rest. It seems like I've been running nonstop for a week."
"That's because you have been! I don't know how you managed to go home every day to pack all your stuff and then come back over to my house and pack up all my junk, too. Plus, you walked the floor every night with Missy when she cried." Daphne playfully socks his arm. "You're my superhero!"
Justin laughs. "Once school was over, it was easy. Hey, you forgot the part about me doing all your homework for you while you nursed Missy. I'm just glad they allowed you to work from home during the last week of classes so you could still graduate."
"Yeah, it worked out well. If she just would have waited until her due date, none of that would have happened." Daphne considers all they've been through during the past month, coming to the conclusion that everything happens for a reason. "Actually, I'm glad she was early. That's why she was only like five pounds at birth. Any bigger than that, and I probably would have died!"
Justin leans over and kisses her cheek. "You're the one who's the superhero. Why don't you take a little nap right here until she wakes up and you need to feed her again? I'll start putting some things away in the kitchen."
Daphne rests her head against the back of the sofa and closes her eyes. "I knew you were gonna be a good dad, Justin."
. . . . .
"Cynthia?" Brian calls out to his personal assistant at Ryder Advertising when she passes his open doorway, waving her into his office.
"Morning, Brian." She sets an armful of client files down on his desk.
Looking at them is what he'd like to do the least that day. He takes a deep breath and eyes his assistant. "I've been thinking about your niece. The one who's been here a few afternoons in her school uniform."
"Christy?" Cynthia wrinkles up her forehead. What interest could Brian possibly have in her brother's daughter, who periodically shadows her at work for an academic project she's working on? "Why are you thinking about her?"
"The uniform. Isn't it from that private high school over in Southern Hills?" Brian knows full well that it is. He's discreetly cased the front of the suburban school numerous times, driving by at dismissal time to comb the faces of the teenagers who pile out of its doors every afternoon at two-fifteen. But Cynthia doesn't need to know that. Christ! He hopes no one's onto the fact that he takes his lunch hour so late and stays away from the office so long.
"St. James Academy? Why are you thinking about that? Brian, you know you're up for Ad Person of the Year this year. I thought we were going to brainstorm on the Old Pitt Beer campaign so you can blow Ryder away with your outstanding creativity."
"Yeah . . . about that. I can't do it today. I wanted to get a little something for your niece for her graduation. Oh, by the way, when is their graduation?" He wonders if Cynthia is buying any of this shit. Doesn't he make his living persuading people to buy shit? How simple things had been when his sole mission in life was fucking nameless ass on a daily basis. Now his days and nights are consumed with the constant search for Justin Taylor. How can a person vanish from the face of the earth so thoroughly?
"Brian, Christy's a sophomore. She doesn't graduate until two years from now. Why are you so interested in her? You hardly ever speak to her when she's here." Cynthia starts to open one of the files she'd put on his desk, but he reaches for it and returns it to the stack. "What's up with you?"
"So they've already had their graduation?" Brian leans down and opens his bottom desk drawer, pretending to look for something work-related just to buffer some of the weirdness out of the conversation. "How long ago was it?"
Cynthia suspects he hasn't had his triple latte yet. "I think Christy mentioned going to a couple of graduation parties about three weeks ago. Do you need me to make a Starbucks run for you?"
"No, I'm fine. Do you happen to know of any apartment complex out in Southern Hills that has some kind of tree in its name? Actually, I think I'll be gone for the rest of the day." Gathering up some things he could work on from home, he doesn't even know why he's bothering. There's no way he's going to get anything done. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Cynthia shakes her head and gets up to leave Brian's office. "Going shopping for graduation gifts?"
Well, that went swimmingly. Now not only Mikey but Cynthia also thinks he needs to have his head examined. Why hadn't he asked Justin for his number before he left the hospital? Or at least given him his own number? It must have been the fact that he'd gotten precious little sleep on that hard-backed chair in the waiting room the night the baby was born, his brain just not being in high gear during the wee hours of the morning when he'd finally said his good-byes after oohing and aahing over her with Justin and Daphne.
Directory assistance had fifty-six Taylors listed, so tracking him down that way wasn't going to happen. Frequenting every neighborhood within a ten mile radius of Justin's high school proved to be futile, too. What was he expecting anyway? That he'd get lucky and just find him outside any one of the thousands of finely manicured homes he'd driven past during the last month?
Sadly, that's exactly what he'd been hoping for. Pathetic!
Brian climbs into his Jeep, loosening his tie and flinging his briefcase and suit jacket onto the passenger seat. With no real plan of action in mind, he only knows that staring at the four walls in his office and dreaming of nothing but Justin's beautiful face, Justin's hot, tight little ass, and the downy-smooth feel of Justin's skin is something he just can't spend one more day doing . . . or else he really will need to be committed to the nuthouse.
Might as well set off on his routine pilgrimage to the suburbs. Desperate to locate his boy, Brian's mind wanders to the look in Justin's eyes when he'd claimed him for his own from those two tricks at Babylon. He's sure he's not imagining it. There was something more between them than just fantastic sex. At twenty-nine years old, he's never felt anything like this before, the idea of exploring its full potential something he's not willing to give up on.
Brian finally focuses on a street sign and realizes his Jeep has seemingly steered itself out into the rolling hills of Pittsburgh's country club set. Slowing down to take in the scenery, he curses the tree-lined boulevards queuing up before him like a maze, deliberately keeping him from his goal.
And then he remembers! Trees!
Which tree had Justin and Daphne cited in the name of their future home? Sycamore? Pine? Elm? With the graduation of St. James Academy's senior class three weeks earlier, Brian thinks they'd most likely be moved into their apartment by now. Why the fuck doesn't he know more names of trees? Why the fuck isn't Forestry a required class in obtaining an Advertising degree?
. . . . .
"Daph?" Justin knocks on her half-closed bedroom door, waiting to be invited in. There isn't much they don't know about each other, and neither is particularly modest, but still, he respects her privacy and her space. "I just made some tuna salad if you're hungry. Are you finished feeding her?"
"Yeah. Come on in." Daphne's still adjusting herself back into her nursing bra and pulling her tee shirt down when Justin walks over to her bed and picks up the baby.
"I'll burp her while you eat. Do you have any spit-up towels in here? I just threw all the dirty ones I could find into the washer."
Daphne hands him the last clean burping rag off of her dresser and notices him staring at her chest with a goofy grin on his face. "What?"
Justin thinks of the thin-as-a-rail best friend he used to have - the one with no bosom to speak of. "Those things are enormous!"
"I'm breast-feeding an infant, you idiot! Of course they're huge!" Daphne brings a bowl of tuna salad into the living room and sits on the sofa to eat while Justin settles into the rocking chair across from her and pats Missy's back. "I heard they go away after you stop breast-feeding, though, and you end up with less than you had before you got pregnant."
"No shit?!" Justin laughs. "That's too bad. How are you ever gonna get a man?"
Daphne feigns outrage, laughing harder than Justin. "Are you saying I don't have anything to offer in a relationship besides big boobs?"
"No. I'm just saying it'll really help."
"Oh, my God, Justin!" Daphne giggles again. "I thought you didn't care about big boobs. On me or anybody else, for that matter."
"I'm gay, Daphne, not dead. I can appreciate physical attributes, male or female. And even though they do nothing for me, I can see how some guys would love to get lost in there." Justin cuddles Missy after she belches like a truck driver, rocking her gently back and forth.
Daphne rinses her bowl in the kitchen sink and comes back with a can of Pepsi. "Yeah, well, I'm sure they'll be long gone before I get hooked up with anyone. My priority right now is Missy." She sinks down into the sofa again and turns on the TV. "So what about you? Whatever happened to that guy who took your virginity and named our daughter?"
"Brian?" Justin smiles, thinking about his first crush. "I don't know. We didn't keep in touch. I haven't seen him since he left the hospital."
"He didn't even call you? How rude." Daphne launches into another one of their famous marathon gabfests about the male species. The ones they've been having ever since they both discovered boys in the middle of seventh grade. She can't believe what a jerk Brian turned out to be. "He seemed like such a nice guy, too."
"I don't think I gave him my number. My brain was kind of on you and our newborn baby that morning at the hospital." Justin stands up with his sleeping daughter in his arms and walks to her crib in the alcove. He lays her down and covers her with a fuzzy baby blanket before he goes back out and sees Daphne wiggling her feet into her sandals.
She takes the mailbox key off its hook by the front door. "I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm gonna get the mail."
Justin grabs his sketch pad from the coffee table, soon absorbed in copying Missy's likeness from one of her pictures on his phone. Not even realizing that Daphne's been gone much longer than it takes to collect the mail, he busies himself with shading until he's suddenly distracted by two voices approaching his door. Daph's and someone else's. Someone else who sounds sweetly familiar.
". . . and it was fucking Spruce!" Brian continues his report on the many different types of trees he's discovered, thanks to his iPhone, following Daphne inside. "And when I finally remembered which apartments you guys had been talking about moving into, I found my way over here, and there you were out front at the mailboxes . . ."
Justin's virtually paralyzed, sitting with his sketchbook and staring at Brian. Towering and tan, wearing Armani suit pants sans jacket with tie hanging loosely, the man is just as stunning as he remembered him.
"Hey." Brian stops the tree nonsense when he spots Justin, his lips rolling inward against each other.
Brian steps toward Justin with an outstretched arm and a look of relief in his eyes. "I thought I'd never find you again." He pulls Justin out of the rocking chair and attempts to squeeze him to death.
Justin hugs his captor, no words coming to him to express his surprise. That's okay, though. Words are not what Brian's after. Apparently it's his tonsils, Brian's tongue finding its way into his mouth like a homing device and tickling the back of his throat. Justin hasn't come in his pants since he was fifteen, but he thinks he just might when he feels Brian's lean thigh between his legs, pressing against his dick. He could easily spend the rest of his life right there in Brian's arms with their bodies blended together if it weren't for Daphne, who's stammering out barely coherent phrases.
"Um . . . Uh . . . I'll just . . . I think I hear . . . I'll just check on the baby."
Brian's not sure how much longer he can wait to bury himself in Justin's ass. He pulls back slightly and grins like a kid in a candy store. "Want to go get a drink?"
"Sure!" Justin can't grab his cigarettes and keys fast enough. He tells Daph he'll be gone for awhile and to call if she needs him for anything, then he pulls Brian out the door. "That's my new car." He points to the blue Ford Explorer parked in the space designated for his apartment number. "I just bought it last week."
"Fuck! That's a nice ride for someone your age. Aren't most seventeen-year-olds driving compact hand-me-downs from their parents?"
"I turned eighteen last week and came into a large inheritance. We needed something big enough for all the baby stuff we're always carting around."
"Oh, yeah." Brian bends his mind around the reality of Justin's life. "It must be freaky to have a kid." He leans toward Justin's face and kisses him deeply after they climb into his Jeep, wondering how he'll survive the time it'll take to get somewhere and pound his ass into oblivion. A month is entirely too long to go without fucking anyone. But then again, just anyone isn't whom he's been waiting for.
Brian paws at Justin's jeans. "These have to come off." Unzipping them, he wrestles with the offending denim and underwear until they bunch around Justin's knees. Then he unfastens his own suit pants and pushes them down, freeing his throbbing cock. He slides his seat back as far as it will go. "Straddle me." It isn't a question.
He finds a condom in his pocket and rolls it on while Justin strips below the waist and crawls into his lap. Spreading lube from the packet on Justin's ass, Brian circles a finger around his rim and eases it inside a few times to open him up.
"God, Brian!" Justin rises up on his knees, slowly lowering himself and taking Brian into his body. Gradually riding him faster and faster, the head of Brian's cock scrapes his prostate on every downstroke. He closes his eyes and thinks he might black out.
"You're still so tight. Been saving yourself for me?" Brian crushes their chests together and kisses his lips. "I could fuck you all day, Justin."
Inhaling sharply, the Jeep's leather interior scent drives Justin over the edge. "Leather makes me crazy," he confesses in a daze. "I'm gonna come."
"You're into leather?" Brian pumps harder.
"Uh-huh. Oh, fuck!" Justin's dick erupts between them just before Brian shoots into the condom, their racing heartbeats slowing down to normal a few minutes later.
"So you wouldn't mind being bound with my leather restraints?"
Justin beams at Brian. "Tie me up!" Maneuvering into the passenger seat again, he starts to shinny back into his clothes. "About that drink . . .?"
"I'll take you to my favorite bar." Brian puts the used condom in the ashtray. Then he gets some napkins out of the glove compartment and cleans himself up. He can't help smiling when he wipes at the come stain Justin left on his shirt.
Justin checks out Brian's lap and raises an eyebrow. "You're getting hard again. Can I blow you while you drive?"
Brian just knew there was a reason he'd scoured the city relentlessly for his boy!
. . . . .
Still not believing how perfectly the day has turned out, Brian orders two shots of J.B. for himself and a beer for each of them from Rick, the bartender he'd fucked in Babylon's back room a couple of months earlier. He'd been doubtful of ever seeing Justin again, but thanks to a little information on Cynthia's part and a little ingenuity on his own part, the stars seem to have lined up in his favor.
"Here you go, Bri. Been to Babylon lately?" Rick sets the drinks on the bar. "My shift ends at midnight. Want to meet me there?"
Downing his two shots first, Brian tosses more than enough money to him. "My name's not Bri, and no, I don't want to meet you at Babylon tonight."
"Okay. Maybe another time."
"Don't hold your breath," Brian mumbles, picking up his beers and heading back to the table.
Shit! He's gone four minutes and Justin's attracting hordes of men. They've flocked to him like white on rice, every one of them dreaming of fucking his cute little ass.
"Okay, boys, back off! He's mine." Brian hands Justin a Michelob and waits for the crowd to break up. Most of them move on with no hassle, but some of them need to be told more sternly, Justin grinning his head off the whole time. "That's not helping," Brian says, sitting back in his chair after practically kicking a stubborn mule in the shins who'd had the nerve to plop into the seat he'd vacated.
Justin takes a long drink. "What's not helping?"
"That." Brian gestures toward his face. "Your smile. Your eyes. Your hair. Do you even know how beautiful you are? How absolutely stellar your ass is? Haven't you been hit on thousands of times in your life?"
Justin laughs, feeling himself blush. "Not really. There were two other guys at St. James who were gay, but they weren't my type. Anyone else who ever gave me the eye was like old and gross. I avoided them like the plague."
"Ah. Good old avoidance." Brian's thankful for the concept and the fact that Justin's used it all his life. "So . . . you've never had a boyfriend? You'd really never been fucked before that first time with me?" He wonders where the Brian Kinney who doesn't give a rat's ass about the life of any guy he fucks is hiding. The one who doesn't have a possessive bone in his body.
"Nope. Nobody before you." Justin pours more beer down his throat. "Not since then, either. I mean until today. In your Jeep. Brian, do you realize we did it in broad daylight in the parking lot where I live? I just moved in there! Anyone could have walked by!"
"Fuck, that's what makes it hot!" Brian reaches for Justin's hand and pulls him forward until their lips meet in midair over the table, cupping his other hand around the back of Justin's neck. In broad daylight. With everyone walking by.
That's what makes it hot!
"Oh, my God, Teddy! Would you look at that?! It's Brian Kinney, sucking face with a trick right in the middle Woody's! See? I told you he'd resurface. I told you he'd be back for nameless, faceless ass. Although he certainly seems to be liking this one's face."
Brian rolls his eyes. That flamboyant southern drawl can only belong to his friend Emmett. And how nice! The positively mundane Theodore is there, too.
"Hi, Bri," they say in stereo, Brian thinking for the second time in ten minutes that his name is not Bri.
"Mind if we join you?" Emmett asks, for no earthly reason at all because he pulls up a chair and lands his nelly ass into it without so much as pretending to wait for an answer.
Ted scoots a chair over for himself from the adjacent table. "Raiding the preschools for tricks these days?"
Justin skews an eyebrow, a little put off.
"Emmett. Theodore." Brian looks both of them in the eye. "This is Justin. He's most definitely not a trick."
Emmett and Ted stutter out hello's, wondering how long Brian's been terminally ill.
"Justin," Brian continues, "this is Emmett. He's the biggest queen on Liberty Avenue. He works at Torso. He's the one to go to if you ever need clothing that screams 'I'm as queer as a three dollar bill.'" Brian claps Emmett on the back. "But he's a pretty good social director."
"Hi, Emmett." Justin stands halfway up to shake his hand.
Emmett bats his mascara-coated eyelashes. "Why, Brian, you've found yourself a refreshingly genteel boy with country club manners!"
"Yeah, yeah," Brian cuts off Emily Post. "Justin, this is Theodore. Better known as plain old Ted. He's uh . . . plain. And old. He's the one to go to if you . . . uh, if you need to know about numbers."
"Numbers?" Justin laughs and shakes Ted's hand.
"I'm an accountant," Ted says. Plainly.
Brian signals Rick over to set them up with another round, telling him to put Ted's and Emmett's drinks on his tab, too. Sitting back, he's quiet while Emmett's diarrhea of the mouth runs its course, then he smiles when Ted asks Justin what he does for a living.
"I work at the art supply store right now, but I'll be attending the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art in September. I'm going to be an artist. And I just became a dad a month ago. Do you want to see some pictures of my daughter?" Justin whips out his phone and scrolls down to the recent ones of Missy, showing her off to his new friends. A half an hour and another round of beer later, he's finished with his teenage gay father saga, checking his watch and suddenly becoming concerned about the length of time he's been away from Daphne and Missy.
Brian sees the alarm on his face. "Do you have to be getting back?"
Ted and Emmett exchange glances. Brian Kinney has it bad. For a guy who does happen to be pretty cool.
Outside of Woody's, Brian tilts Justin backward onto the hood of his Jeep and kisses him, their fingers entwining like vines. "Oh, look," he deadpans when they climb in and start back to the suburbs. "I'm getting hard again."
. . . . .
"Do you want to come in and see Missy? Daphne usually feeds her around five, so she'll probably still be awake. You won't believe how much bigger she is now."
"Uh, sure. I'd love to see her again."
"Maybe Daphne's been cooking." Justin's growling stomach leads the way to his apartment. "I'm so starving!"
Brian's face scrunches up. "Don't tell me you two are living in wedded bliss. I just might have to puke all over the place."
"Don't be insane." Justin laughs. "We're cohabiting to raise our daughter. Every once in a while, one of us will get a wild hair and feel like making, you know, food or something. You never know when it's gonna happen. It's a good thing Missy eats at the restaurant of Daphne's chest. She's the only one who gets regular meals."
"Sounds like college. I lived with three roommates in a food-deprived, chaotic nightmare. And one of them was always eating at the restaurant of his girlfriend's chest."
"Jesus." Justin shudders. "No wonder you're gay." He hears Missy's cries as they get closer to the door. "Uh-oh. Someone's not happy."
"Justin! You got fucked again!" Daphne blurts out the news bulletin as soon as they walk in, continuing to pace the living room floor with her crying daughter in her arms. It's that best friend radar. Daphne's is razor sharp.
"Oh, my God, Daphne! Don't say that where she can hear you!" Justin takes his little noisemaker out of her hands. "Do you wanna damage her for life?" Holding Missy a few inches from his face, he reminds her that she's the best little girl in the whole wide world and not to give her mother so much sass. When he tucks her against his body and expertly pats her back, her cries turn into small gurgles and then dry up altogether.
"It's not like she knows what I'm saying or anything. You just look-"
"Okay, Daph! You don't have to say it again. It sounds . . . creepy coming from you."
Brian sits on the sofa after Daphne moves three baby toys and a package of Pampers out of his way. "We can't have anybody thinking Justin and me fucking is creepy, can we? Just wait till Justin notices your freshly fucked look."
"Right. And we all know how often that happens, don't we?" Daphne shares a look with Justin, the irony of why she wanted him to be her first almost comical.
Justin settles next to Brian on the couch, holding Missy in his lap. "When you get pregnant on your very first time, there's not a lot of subsequent fucking."
"Yeah, but now you have this gorgeous little thing. She really is cute," Brian says, the baby turning her head toward the sound of his voice. "You guys seem to have the parenting thing down pretty well."
"She likes Justin better than me." Daphne's face forms an exaggerated pout when she thinks of the way her daughter turned into one big ball of happy after her daddy came home.
"Except at mealtime. Brian, here. Hold her. She keeps staring at you. She likes you." Justin lifts Missy out toward him.
"I've never held a baby before. I can't break her, can I?"
"Just support the back of her head, and the rest takes care of itself. She'll let you know if you're doing something wrong." Laying the baby in Brian's arms, Justin fishes in his pockets for his phone and clicks a few pictures as they get to know each other.
It doesn't even bother Brian, and he briefly wonders if that fact should bother him. Kinney's morphed into a pile of mush. He can hear the Liberty Avenue gossip mill grinding away. Undoubtedly, Emmett will broadcast his doting on Justin for all the world to see in the middle of Woody's at four o'clock in the afternoon to everyone he knows. That, right there, is going to shoot the reputation all to hell. Somehow, that doesn't bother Brian either.
"Hey, Justin, I'm gonna take her to my mom's for a little while, okay?" Daphne starts to gather up most of the baby stuff littering the room. "My great aunts are going to be over there, and my mom called earlier to ask if I could bring Missy by for them to see."
Justin helps Brian amuse Missy while Daphne gets ready to leave, jangling the baby's toy keys where she can see them and coaxing her into smiling for them. He gets up and packs the diaper bag for Daphne when she comes back out of her room a short time later. "See?" Justin takes Missy from Brian and buckles her into the car seat. "You're a pro already! I'm gonna help Daph put her in her car. Then I'll give you the grand tour. And see what I mean about food? No one cooks it. Maybe we can order a pizza."
Daphne grabs the diaper bag while Justin snaps the car seat handle into place and totes Missy out the door. "So I was right about Brian." She giggles as they walk to her car. "He really is a nice guy. Is he your boyfriend now?"
"I like him a lot, but I don't want to scare him away. Do you think he likes me?"
"Are you kidding? He would have run as far away from you as he possibly could after Missy was born if he didn't like you. You should see the way he looks at you when you're not looking at him. I'd say yes, he likes you."
"Thanks, Daph." Justin gives her a peck on the cheek and straps Missy's seat into her car. "Say hi to your mom and dad for me."
"Brian?" he calls out when he returns to an empty sofa, a sinking feeling nagging at his heart. Maybe he ran out the back door as far away from me as he can get now that the whole baby thing has become a tangible reality to him. "Brian?"
"In here. I gave myself the tour."
Following the sound of Brian's voice down the hall, Justin stands in the doorway of his bedroom. Not only has Brian not run away, but he must not be planning to anytime soon since Justin sees him butt naked on his bed in a state of semi-arousal. "I take it you don't want pizza?"
"Later. Right now I want you." Brian slowly strokes his dick.
"Fuck. Me." Justin kicks his bedroom door shut and rips off his clothes. Crawling across his bed toward Brian, he kisses him the way he likes to be kissed before he lies on his stomach and spreads his legs.
Brian kneels between them, still jerking himself while he works his other hand down under Justin's scrotum, alternately squeezing his sac and sliding his fingers back up to his ass over and over.
Justin's dick swells and throbs, pressing into the mattress while Brian plays with his balls and rubs his hole. His erratic breathing makes Brian smile.
"I'll have to kill you if you stop."
"Don't kill me till you feel this." Brian rolls a condom down his shaft and bends forward, sticking his tongue between Justin's cheeks. Gently parting them with his hands, he licks his asshole until it's soaked and then starts penetrating him with his tongue. Dripping wet, horny Justin. All for him. Brian pushes the tip of his dick inside of Justin, stilling for as long as he can and then inching further and further in. Fucking him slowly for an impossible length of time, he doesn't speed up until Justin fists his own cock and shouts a string of obscenities.
Coming together, they're silent for a long time, each thoroughly sated and lost in his thoughts. A host of emotions runs rampant through Justin's mind while he contemplates which one would be the least offending to voice to a guy who doesn't do boyfriends. Brian closes his eyes, the concept of an alien life form taking him over the only one that makes any sense. He thinks back to the night in Babylon when he picked up two tricks at once, narrowing it down to the last time his former ego made an appearance. Shallow fucker. He likes his replacement much better.
Easing out of Justin's ass, he ties off the condom and lies beside him. "Please tell me you'll never disappear again. I've spent the past month looking for you."
Justin turns on his side to face Brian, trying to avoid his hip landing in the wet spot he made. "I didn't disappear. I just had a ton of responsibilities to deal with. Do you know how much shit you have to buy to take care of a baby? Then I had to graduate high school and move us into this place." Justin hesitates for a moment. Might as well lay it all out. "And after what Michael said, I figured you were done with me anyway. I mean the night we rushed to the hospital was the second time we'd fucked. You were over your quota with me by one."
"Quota? What the fuck did Mikey tell you?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
Justin can hear Brian's best friend warning him to fuck off like it was yesterday. "Well . . . he wanted to get rid of me at all costs. He told me to just forget about you. That you're selfish and only care about yourself."
Brian puts his arms around Justin and kisses his lips. "I don't want to be like that anymore."
Skimming his fingertips along Brian's chest, Justin peers up into his eyes. He sees something in them he never wants to be without.
. . . . .
"Morning, Brian." Cynthia hand delivers her boss's triple latte straight onto his desk, hoping to avoid another nonproductive day like the previous one. "Ready to work on the Old Pitt Beer campaign?"
"What took you so long? I've been here since six-thirty. I've got a million and one ideas!" Brian pulls the chair facing his desk out for her to sit in. "We're going to make me Ad Person of the Year! Let's start brainstorming!" Rubbing his hands together briskly, he straightens his tie and does a quick shoulder roll. The gleam in his eye is blinding.
"God, you're in a good mood! More so than usual for a Friday. Did you fuck the manager of the graduation shop yesterday?"
"Ah, Cynthia. You're always so good with the comic relief. Have I told you I recommended you for a raise to Ryder this morning?"
. . . . .
"Hey, Mikey! You're late. I went ahead and ordered you a beer." Brian's already had a shot of J.B. and is halfway through his beer chaser when Michael charges into Woody's. "How's everything down at the Big Q?"
"Fucked. Thanks for asking." Yanking on the bar stool next to Brian's, Michael plops down, scowl firmly affixed to his features. "I've had a for shit day. What's wrong with your mouth?" He drains his beer bottle in record time and orders another. "You're gonna screw up your face permanently with that fucking grin. Cut that shit out."
"Christ. You're in a lovely mood." Brian's smile bounces back into place after he takes a long drink. "What happened now?"
"Fucking Tracy. The girl I work with. She wants me to go out with her and her friends to some breeder bar tomorrow night. She thinks I'm straight, for fuck's sake!"
Brian's quite entertained. Mikey's always queening out about something. "I keep telling you . . . you've gotta come out at that stupid store. Just tell them you like cock and get it over with." He lights a cigarette and offers one to Michael.
"How long have you known me, Brian? Have you ever seen me smoke a cigarette? What's wrong with you?"
"Sorry." Brian shrugs, returning it to the pack. "I forgot."
Michael still can't figure out why he won't quit smiling. "How long have you been here? Did you get blown in the bathroom again? Is that why you look like a goddamned laughing hyena?"
Brian puffs four perfectly symmetrical smoke rings into the air above the bar. "Mikey, chill. Have another beer. I don't need to get blown in the bathroom."
"So who's the lucky son of a bitch tonight? That leather daddy at the end of the bar? He keeps giving you the eye. I bet he can't wait to bottom for you." Michael cracks a tiny grin, the image of a big burly ape submitting to Brian too funny to ignore. Then he remembers one of the major reasons he's pissed. "Where the fuck were you last night? I sat in here for an hour and a half, and you never showed."
Brian's shocked that Emmett's rumor train hasn't reached Mikey's ears by now, guessing that he must have been too worked up over his Big Q coworkers and their evil plot to get him into a straight bar to talk to Emmett that day. He debates the pros and cons of letting him hear about Justin's elevation to non-trick status from Emmett and Ted. Not a good idea. The cons win by a landslide. "I was here yesterday. It was in the afternoon. I just missed you, that's all."
"The afternoon? You took off work in the afternoon to come to Woody's?"
"Of course, not. I took off work in the afternoon to look for Justin again. Then, after I found him, I stayed away from work longer so I could bring him here. We needed a drink." Brian smokes his cigarette and drinks his beer like there's no tomorrow, bracing for the fallout.
"Justin . . ." Michael scoffs. "You're taking off work and bringing him to bars in the middle of the afternoon?" He glares at Brian as if he's suddenly grown two heads. "Isn't there some kind of law against that? Like contributing to the delinquency of a minor? What if his mommy finds out?"
Sarcasm. Sarcasm is good. Brian can work with that. "His mommy's cut the apron strings. She's okay with the idea of him being all grown up, what with him having a kid and turning eighteen and all. She recognizes, along with the rest of the world, that he's a legal adult with gainful employment and plans of going to college in the fall."
Michael can only imagine how and why his best friend would know so much about the teenager. Actually, he doesn't want to know. The scene Brian had made in Babylon with his possessive antics toward the boy was bad enough! Then he couldn't think straight for weeks while he searched high and low for him. And now he can't stop grinning like a loon. Michael sees the writing on the wall. And he doesn't like it one little bit.
"Brian, look! That guy sitting at the table by the window . . ." Michael points to an eager beaver who's been salivating at the mouth every time he dares to look Brian's way. "He's practically undressed and waiting for you. He'd be a great quick fuck out in the alley!"
More dumb grinning. With dimples. Not even caring about anonymous ass to fuck.
Yup, Mikey's screwed, alright. Jesus! You think you know someone after fifteen years! "So . . . Justin . . ." Michael feels himself giving in to the inevitable. "He's got a kid?"