Fic: QaF: Into My Arms: Part One
Title: Into My Arms
Fandom: Queer as Folk, Post-S4 AU
Rating: Hard R
Dedication: Years ago I promised shape5 that I'd finish this story. I'm very slow sometimes, especially when a baby is conceived, birthed, and almost ready to turn two in the interim. So, Sharon, sweetheart, this one is for you, with love. I hope you like it. If you don't...well, I'm sorry! :)

Appreciation: Thank you to jackpride for the nudge to consider writing this one again. Thank you to peggin for the support and confidence over the years. Thank you to supergrover24 for pointing out a broken part so that I was able to (hopefully) fix it. Thank you to luceononuro for the support in this story and in all things over the years. Thank you to firehead30 and vl_redreign for inspiring me with their enthusiasm, reminding me why I like to write fanfiction and how rewarding it can be, and for encouraging me in this story and in general. Thank you to missjungle, my heart's sister, for coming out of the woodwork all the way over on the other side of the earth where you live with your outhouse and your pig to read this story as I was writing it and to tell me to keep on! Thank you to milady1844, brandil, jule1122, smartwomn1, 1_mad_squirrel, highd, duffy_60, and particles_of_0 for reading along as I wrote, for the criticisms and the encouragement. I wrote it for you guys, too.

Special Acknowledgment: Thanks to Maria Rainer Rilke for the book of poetry entitled The Book of Images. The poem which Brian quotes the first line of is as follows:

Nights like these, the dying see clearly,
reach down lightly into the growing hair
whose stalks out of their skulls' weakness
in those long hopeless days sprout,
as if they wanted to remain
above death's surface.
Their gesture goes through the house
as if mirrors hung everywhere;
and they give off -- with this digging
into their hair-- powers,
which they have gathered throughout years
that are gone.

::::



::::::

and leave you (inexpressibly to untangle)
your life afraid and huge and ripening,
so that it, now bound in and now embracing,
grows alternately stone in you and star
~ Rainer Maria Rilke

::::::

Into My Arms

It had been ten years since Brian had seen him, nine since they talked, and four since he’d heard anything about him at all. So, the fact that Brian found himself frozen in the center of a grocery aisle, holding a bag of grapes in one hand, and guava juice in the other, wasn’t really an overreaction, no matter what he would tell himself later.

Justin pushed a cart along, his head lowered to speak to a dark-haired little girl who was twisted around in the child-seat. Brian had heard that Justin had impregnated a lezzie friend he'd picked up in L.A., a famous actress or something , but he'd never heard anything more about it. Brian had just decided to duck his head, and turn the corner before Justin could see him, when he had his anonymity snatched away from him.

"Why are you staring at us?" the little girl yelled down the aisle at him, her child’s voice held nary a lisp, and was neither accusatory or angry, merely curious.

Instantly, Justin’s attention focused entirely on Brian, and when their eyes me, Brian felt a momentary flash of anger that Justin was here, and he steadied himself against the sudden rush of sadness and regret.

"Brian!" Justin gave the super-lightening smile, sounding pleased, if surprised, and he wheeled the cart down the aisle towards Brian, who felt rooted to the ground, unable to make any move to get away.

"Justin,” Brian replied, attempting to force himself to relax. "It's been a long time."

Justin came around the cart, leaning forward as though anticipating an embrace and then straightening up without one, but he was still smiling. "Too long."

Brian indicated the girl, asking, "And who's this?"

"This is my daughter, Annabelle." Justin touched her dark hair. "Annabelle, this is Daddy's friend, Mr. Kinney."

"Belle," she said, her eyes round and sincere.

Justin laughed, and began the introductions again. "I'm sorry. This is my daughter, Belle."

"Like Beauty," she said, putting her little chin in the air for emphasis.

Justin wrinkled his nose and explained, "Disney."

Brian nodded slowly. His tongue felt thick, and he didn't know the last time he'd felt so incredibly stupid.

"Are you still living in the loft?" Justin asked.

"Well,” Brian said, lips twisted in a fake smile, “Until I find the perfect country manor with stables and a tennis court, I see no reason to move." The only reason there had ever been to move was standing in front of him and Justin knew that then and he surely knew it now. The emotions tumbling through Brian left him feeling vast and empty inside, and his ears were ringing as though he were talking over a great distance, "And what about you? Still in L.A.?"

"Life was good to me there for the most part, but we moved to New York earlier this year to be closer to the gallery that’s hosting my work, and closer to my agent, Simone. I’ve been moving away from the movie projects lately and getting back into fine arts."

"Great. That's peachy, Sunshine." Brian lips stretched into a brittle smile.

Justin continued, "I'd hoped to see you while I was in town. I wanted you to meet Belle and, well, to catch up." He shifted to his other foot, and Brian recognized the flirtatious blink, the angled hip, the invitation in Justin's eyes. Recognized and wanted.

"Well, I met Belle, and I guess we caught up.” Brian lifted his guava juice in farewell and made ase if to move on.

"Brian," Justin touched his arm. "Let's have dinner. Tonight? Tomorrow?"

Brian said nothing. He couldn’t look at Justin’s face and he found himself instead gazing into Justin’s daughter’s deep brown eyes lifted curiously to his own.

Justin let go of Brian’s arm, and put his hand on his daughter’s head instead, smoothing her hair, and then continued talking like this was any other encounter with an old friend, like he didn’t know that Brian was standing there eviscerated in the middle of the fucking grocery store. "Can we stop by later? This obviously isn't the best place to...." Justin’s expression shifted and he looked down at his daughter again.

"Catch up?" Brian supplied, the words heavy and rough.

"Yeah."

Brian forced himself to look away from Justin and his daughter, gazing off down the aisle, hoping he’d see a hot guy that he could pretend to hit on, anything to get him out of this moment and to remind Justin who he was. There was no one, so he settled for saying, "I'm not baby-proofed. Maybe next time."

Justin lowered his lashes and said, "I can leave Belle with Mom."

"Justin--" Brian had no idea what he was going to say and he never found out.

"Great. I'll be there at seven." Justin smiled and turned back to his daughter. "Belle, honey, say good-bye to Daddy's friend."

"Bye, mister!" Belle called as Justin pushed the cart down the aisle, and Brian's heart twisted again at Justin's happy sounding laugh. Brian stared after Justin, his words still missing in the ether somewhere.

::::::

Brian paced in his apartment. "Now listen here, you little shit! I didn't invite you and I don't want you! So get the fuck out!"

There was a time when he could have trusted himself not to need to rehearse kicking Justin out on his ass.

That time was long gone. He'd learned a lot about life over the last many years, and there were several things that he'd come to realize were the ultimate truths of Brian Kinney's existance: there were three people who made his heart wrench with love, and any of these three people could destroy him if they wanted to, and one of them almost had. The list was short.

1. Michael Novotny
2. Gus Peterson
3. Justin Taylor

Not necessarily in that order.

Lindsay was on the list sometimes, too, but only when he didn’t have to deal with Mel on any regular basis. Still, he’d do almost anything for Lindsay.

Michael, well…Michael had sold his portion of the what had turned into a Rage industry to Justin a few years ago, because he just wanted out, and because caring for your partner when he was dying suddenly put life into a hell of a lot of perspective. Despite everything, Brian knew that he'd always be part of Michael's life. They might still end up living together yet: two old queens down in Palm Springs.

Gus was fourteen now and Brian saw him every three or four months. Brian had done his best to keep his promise to spend more time with his kid, and he even though he’d failed utterly, he still thought he’d turned out to be a better father than he’d thought he’d be when Gus was first born. If nothing else, he’d been a better father than his own had been. Though, maybe that wasn’t saying much. There had only been one disappointment--if one could call it that. Brian had caught Gus looking up Cynthia's new assistant's skirt the last time he'd taken him into the office, and when Gus had blushed furiously, Brian knew that he and the munchers had somehow raised a straight kid.

As for Justin, he’d moved to Los Angeles to make the first Rage film, and despite Justin’s reassurances that he’d be back, well, Brian had known how it would be when the kid left, and one movie had led to another, and more opportunties came up, and Justin never came back. Brian sometimes found himself looking back and thinking, "If I'd done this, if I'd said that--" but regret was bullshit, and fuck if Justin wasn’t better off anyway. Brian always found some kind of perverse pleasure in the idea that Justin was in L.A. giving the world the finger with his gay comic book hero, and fucking all of the closeted A-list actors. Still, the pain lingered, taking his breath at odd times, and he'd never found anyone else to take Justin's place. Not that he'd looked. Not that he'd ever look.

So, why was he bent on kicking Justin out? Because when the love of Brian Kinney's life showed back up looking for a nice fuck for the road, nightmarish memories of endless drinking, whoring, and drugged escapism came to mind. Brian knew that he couldn't survive that again. Every man had limits and Brian knew his.

Sometimes Brian thought about the man he'd been when he first met Justin, and then he compared that to the man he was when Justin walked away, and then to the man he was now. It was an amusing exercise that gave him no answers, just a stunning amount of perspective now that he was pushing forty. Okay, fine, now that he was well over forty.

Brian sat down and scrubbed his face with his hands. Trying to remember the point of the exercise. Oh, right. The point was that Brian hadn't wanted Justin, hadn't invited him, couldn't deal with him, wouldn't deal with him, and no fuck was going to be worth the pain--

It was nice to know that his mind still had the off-switch when it came to thinking the unthinkable.

::::::

Brian pulled back the door of the loft, saying, "I didn't invite--" but he fell silent.

Justin, dressed casually in jeans and a button up shirt, stood loaded down with wine, a sack of food from the diner, a huge shoulder bag of some sort, and a sound-asleep little girl.

"Sorry. My mom couldn't watch her after all.” He chuckled. “And it’s times like these that it sucks that Molly is going to school in Atlanta, you know."

Actually, he didn't know. Jennifer Taylor hadn't exactly kept him informed of her family's activities once he and Justin had parted ways. They had never been that close, although he knew that they could have been.

Brian grabbed the bottle of wine before it slipped from Justin's hands, and pulled the door open all the way. "What's she doing here, anyway?"

"Uh, I was hoping she could sleep on the sofa while we had dinner?"

"No. I mean here. Where's her lezzie mommy?"

"Dead."

Brian took the food from Justin's hands, and walked to the kitchen counter. "Oh."

Justin followed, shifting the shoulder bag and Belle around. "Car wreck. Meghan was hit by a drunk driver crossing the street about three blocks from home. Luckily, Annabelle--"

"Belle," Brian corrected.

Justin snorted. "Excuse me, Belle wasn't with her because Meghan had been so late getting to daycare to pick her up that another mother had taken Belle home, thinking that Meg had just--" He broke off the story. "You don't fucking care. Long story short. Meg's dead and I've got Belle now."

Brian blinked at him, tried to think of what to say to the unexpected hostility, and finally settled on, "I’m sure you're a great dad."

Justin shrugged, adjusted Belle's position on his hip, and changed the topic. "She's so fuh--, um, darn heavy."

Brian chuckled for the first time and said, "Maybe if you ever worked out--"

"Hey! I have the perfect physique."

Brian smiled fondly as that brought back memories. "Yeah, well, better watch out. It can sneak up on you. You'll be fat with no guys chasing your ass. And you're way beyond twinkdom now."

"Yeah, I guess I'm a daddy." He indicated Belle with a duck of his head. "In more ways than one."

Brian began to unpack the bag of food, waving toward the couch. He'd known the instant he'd opened the door and seen the two of them that he wasn't going to send Justin away, that he was going to fuck him, and that he was definitely going to be spending another three months (at least) living in the bottom of a bottle, hopped up on recreational drugs, and trying to fuck his way back into a happiness that never came. Brian was so sure of such an inevitable outcome, that it was as though he'd already lived it, and he moved around the kitchen feeling like he'd just come out the other side of a tunnel, even knowing that it had only been an underpass.

He could hear Justin's deep voice speaking softly to the little girl he was settling on the sofa. "Daddy will be in the kitchen with Mr. Kinney. I'll be right here. Okay?"

"Promise?" she asked drowsily, already falling back asleep.

"Promise."

Brian had just uncorked the wine when Justin strolled to the counter and pulled up a stool. "She's a little afraid of being left alone since Meghan died," he said, reaching for the glass that Brian held out to him. “But she had a huge day and she’s pretty beat. My mother can’t get enough of her.”

"She's pretty."

"Well, she should be with me as her dad," Justin smirked suggestively, and Brian rolled his eyes. "--and Meghan Mallory as her mom."

"Meghan Mallory," Brian repeated. That Meghan Mallory? The star of the movies Mangos Are Not The Only Fruit and Forever Is Ever? Emmett had seen every film she'd been in; Brian, Ted, and Michael had been submitted to endless rhapsodies over the 'new Audrey Hepburn', but he'd never known that she was the mother of Justin's child. Brian had actually bought that rag People magazine for Emmett the week that she'd died.

"The very one. She was amazing," Justin said, sadness edging his voice. "I told Daphne that she really should have been a muncher because she and Meg would have been perfect together."

"Daphne knows the importance of a good, hard prick in a person's life."

Justin nodded his agreement. "Heard from Daph lately?"

Brian just looked at him, surely Justin knew the answer to that question. It seemed like bait of some kind to him.

"I guess not. Well, she's the one who convinced me to come here."

"To come to Pittsburgh? I can understand why you'd need to be convinced. I still can't understand why I never left."

"Me, either."

Brian smirked. "Ah, as Mikey says, if you love a place you leave, and if you hate a place you stay. Of course we were fucking high at the time, so it made sense then."

"You look good."

"I look great."

Justin nodded, saying breathlessly, "Yeah. You look great. You always look great."

Brian was flattered, pleased that even at his advanced age that Justin still wanted him, but....

"Listen, Justin, I didn't invite--"

"I know; you didn’t invite me here to fuck me. Hell, you didn't invite me here at all. I don't care." Justin looked toward the couch, reassuring himself that Belle was asleep, then back at Brian, his blue eyes intense beneath heavy lids. "I've missed you."

Brian rolled his eyes, words forming in his mouth, something along the lines of, "You just think you miss me, but if you were around me for more than a day, you'd remember all the reasons you left to begin with," but he didn't say that, instead he just shrugged and snarked, "Tough titty, said the kitty."

Justin's mouth fell open in silent laughter, before sputtering, "You are so lame! So emotionally stunted and lame!"

Brian shrugged again. Justin had just proved his unspoken point. He turned to grab two plates for the food Justin had brought, and when he turned around Justin was standing at the corner of the bar studying him with a hand on one hip, and the other raised to his mouth thoughtfully.

Brian's mouth went dry as Justin advanced on him, taking the plates from his hands, and placing them on the counter. Brian tried to take a step back, to regain control of the situation, but Justin was on his tip-toes and his mouth tasted like spearmint gum.

It was breathtaking like falling, and Brian wrapped his arms around Justin's thin form, dragging him as close as possible. Coming up for breath, he whispered, "Your kid--"

"Sleeping."

"How do you know she won’t--"

"I know."

He didn't ask again because he'd been fucked from the moment he'd opened the door; no, from the moment he'd seen Justin in the grocery. As usual, despite Brian’s protests Justin would have his way.

::::

Justin's body was as pliable as ever, and Brian bit his tongue to keep from telling him how much it felt like coming home to push into his tight ass. Words had always been messy between them, but sex had always been messy in the right way--the way that said things like, "Need. Want. Love. Please. God. Now. Yes."

When Justin came, Brian held his breath, noting the familiar and unfamiliar at once. The small wrinkles around the eyes were new and strange, but the open mouth, and the deep groan were familiar in that way of recurring dreams.

Brian tasted Justin's lips again, and smoothed his hand over Justin's pale skin, then closed his eyes for his own release. When it was over, he held on tight, burying his face in Justin’s neck so that he could hide how blown apart he felt, but Justin was on to him, squeezing Brian closer and rubbing his trembling arms.

Brian stood up and went to the shower without saying a word relieved that Justin didn’t follow him.

::::

Justin stood next to the sofa looking down at his daughter sleeping there. He'd showered, actually eaten a little of the food that he brought, and had now packed up their stuff in preparation to leave. Brian lips twisted into an amused smile as Justin managed to balance the huge tote, and also swing the sleeping girl into his arms without waking her.

Standing by the door, adrenaline racing in Brian’s veins, anticipating the pain to come, Brian whispered, "It was good to see you, Justin."

"It was good to see you, too." Justin kissed Brian's cheek, and continued, "Let's have dinner tomorrow. I promise to leave the munchkin with my mom."

"That'd be nice, but I'm busy."

Justin didn't look convinced. "You don't get it, do you?"

Irritated now, seeing the pain just on the horizon and really not wanting to delay it, because the longer he took to go through it, the worse it would be when it finally came. "Get what?"

"Come on, Brian, think about it."

"Fucking enlighten me, or get out."

Justin didn't appear at all intimidated, and Brian couldn't blame him. He'd known what he was saying with this body when he touched Justin, and he'd known that Justin would know.

"Brian, Daphne convinced me to come here."

Brian lifted his brows in an impatient expression.

"--for you."

"To come here for me?" Brian scoffed. "I don't need you to be here for me." Although that was and always had been a lie.

"No, not come here to be with you, come here to get you. To bring you home with me."

:::::

Brian sat at his desk, eyes unfocused, and mind nowhere near the print ads for Wholesome Foods that were spread across his desk. The meeting was in fifteen minutes. He’d have to hope that Cynthia and Ted could handle it, because he was completely undone and, at this point, considering getting high post haste.

All day he’d done almost nothing but think about the sex he’d had wit Justin, and when he wasn’t thinking about the sex, he was remembering the look on Justin’s face just before Brian had slammed the door on it, and wondering what the look on Justin’s face had been just after. And when he wasn’t thinking about that, he was sparing some time to be pissed that Justin seemed to think that Brian was a pathetic, hopeless, love-sick idiot with nothing better to do than to pick up his life and move to New York because Justin deigned to drop by and demand it of him, like he was some kind of housecat that could just be scooped into a carrier and transplanted to another world on its owner’s whim, and, hey, Justin was not his owner; they didn’t own each other, and people who don’t own each other don’t treat each other like that.

“Bring you home with me,” Brian muttered under his breath, stabbing his pen into the cardboard matting beneath the advert he’d managed to at least declare ugly, unsuitable, and a waste of space before his mind turned back to Justin and the sex.

He didn’t notice Cynthia had opened the door to his office until she touched his arm. “What?” he snapped, and he shoved back in his chair away from her. Glaring into her eyes, he knew what she would say next just by the expression he found there; she was looking at him with large, sweet eyes, and that was completely incongruant with the fact that he’d said something nasty to her earlier about the thirty pounds she’d put on since she had her kid.

“Brian, Justin is here to see you. Shall I show him in?”

She wasn’t his assistant anymore, some twink named Eric whom he’d plucked from the university’s business program was, but Cynthia still ran interference for him when she felt it was necessary, and she knew that Justin was the very definition of necessary.

Brian closed his eyes, rubbed some sleep from the corner of his lid, and said, “Fine.”

“Ted and I will handle Wholesome Foods this afternoon,” she stated as she left the room, broking no argument that he wasn’t even going to give.

There was an interminable moment that he spent considering just walking out, shoving past Justin, heading for the baths, except, fuck, they shut those down, the bastards, but then the moment was over and Justin was standing in front of him, hands in pockets, smile on face, looking like he hadn’t had a door slammed on him fifteen hours prior.

“Hey,” Justin said, reaching out to turn the prints on Brian’s desk around, studying the composition. “This one needs something here in this corner; otherwise, it’s off balance.”

Brian pulled the photos out from under Justin’s fingers and said, “Came to try to collect your kitty? Like I said last night, tough titty.”

Justin smiled and sat on the edge of the desk. Brian leaned back in his chair to get further away. “Brian, come on. We both know that you love me, and you can’t seriously doubt that I love you.”

“I haven’t seen you in ten years.”

“Whatever.” Justin rolled his eyes. “Tell me that you don’t love me anymore and I’ll go.”

Blue eyes burned into his and Brian looked away.

“So, okay, you love me. I love you. And you will love Belle.”

“Why would I love Belle?”

Justin looked offended. “Because you will. Because she’s part of me. You love everything about me.”

Ten years ago that had been so true that Brian had done and said things he’d never dreamed that he would, but it had all been for nothing, after all, and Justin had gone, just as he should have, just as Brian wanted him to go, and yet—

“You can’t just come into my life with a kid and expect me to leave my home, my company, my friends, my world to come play happy family with you in another city.”

Justin laughed. “I’m not insane, Brian. Besides, that’s not what I was saying. You could have listened to me last night, instead of slamming the door in my face, but that’d be way too functional for you, wouldn’t it, Mr. Kinney.” The last few words were said in Justin’s fuck-me-hard voice, eyelashes lowering, and Brian swallowed.

Justin continued, “We’re both adults. Let’s make a deal. Let me lay out a few things and you tell me yes or no, and then, depending on your answers, we’ll go from there.”

At Brian’s barely inclined head, Justin went on, “Do you love me?”

Brian raised both brows.

“Okay, that’s a yes. Do you believe that I love you?”

“What that has to do with any —“

“Okay, that’s a yes. Do you need to know why I disappeared for ten years? Why I went out of your life?”

Brian didn’t know what to say, but something in his expression made Justin’s face soften, and he slid off the desk, walked around to Brian, swung Brian’s chair out, and slid to his knees before him. “I left because I wanted a family. I wanted Belle. I didn’t know Meg then, I didn’t know the shape it would take, but I knew that I couldn’t have it with you; not then.”

“And not now,” Brian whispered.

Justin smiled softly. “Why the fuck not?”

“I don’t want a family, Justin. I never have. I never will.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Brian snorted and shook his head, clearly Justin was insane.

A long sigh fell through Justin’s body, and he rocked back on his heels. “Okay, Brian, here’s the thing. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for me. I don’t need a lover. I can fuck whoever I want. And I don’t need a friend, I’ve got a plenty of those. I need a partner, and you’re the only person I’ve ever met that I can imagine making that work with.”

“Justin, that is….” Brian trailed off, lifting his hands in defeat.

“What? What were you going to say?”

Brian shook his head.

“Just tell me,” exasperation and sadness together in Justin’s eyes.

“Fucked up. That’s fucked up.”

Justin dismissed that. “Listen, I’m not asking you to be Belle’s dad. I’m not even asking you to move in. Not yet. What I’m asking is to be let back into your life and to go from there.

Brian chewed on the side of his cheek, looking into Justin’s warm eyes, and he should’ve flipped on the intercom, paged Cynthia, and begged her to get a gun and commanded her to put him out of his misery. Intead, he said, “I don’t babysit. Is that clear?”

::::

The whole “I don’t babysit” thing lasted all of two hours, just long enough for him to cut out of the office, go home, get a shower, and open the door to Justin standing there with an armful of Belle, who was awake and sucking on a lollipop, the lower portion of her face covered in red, sticky goo.

“Hey, um, I know I said that I’d leave Belle at my mom’s, but—“

“My Grandma’s at work.” Belle interjected.

“Yeah, Grandma’s at work, right? Anyway, she’s running late, and she promised she’d stop by and pick Belle up on her way home in a few hours – “

“Grandma is going to take me to Build-a-Bear. Right, Daddy?”

“In a few hours, sweetheart, um” Justin looked at Brian again, “So, hey.”

Brian opened the door and let them in. Justin plopped Belle down on the sofa and Brian winced, hoping that lollipop gunk came off of leather.

“I was thinking,” Justin said, as he dug in the bag he carried everywhere, which, from the contents that he was shifting around inside, appeared to hold pull-ups, another outfit for Belle, pajamas for Belle, crayons, a small sketchbook covered in stickers, a packet of said stickers, and a DVD carrying case, which Justin pulled out and handed to Belle.

Brian crossed his arms and indicated that he was listening.

“I could run down the street to that Italian place on the corner, get some of that great spaghetti that I always loved, and then drop by the wine store because there’s this great vintage that I want you to try—“

Brian looked down at Belle and then looked at Justin like he’d lost his mind.

“She’s got her DVDs. I can pretty much guarantee you that if you put in Beauty and the Beast she won’t move then entire time I’m away, and I’ll only be gone for forty minutes, tops.”

Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose and considered. How was this happening? How was the day before yesterday like any other day in the last ten years of his life, and today he was standing listening to Justin talk about getting spaghetti as if he’d never been gone, asking him to watch his kid, whom Brian had barely even known existed, and acting like they were a couple? He took a deep breath, ready to put a stop to all of this, but the impulse was checked as an icy cold fear creeped through him. Which would hurt worse, sending Justin away again for real this time, or turning into some bizarre parody of a boyfriend who babysits?

Justin crossed to him, kissed his lips, and whispered, “Don’t over think this, Brian. Okay?” And with that, Justin called over his shoulder, “Stay with Brian, okay, Belle? Daddy will be right back.”

“No!” Belle called, echoing Brian’s own inner scream. “I don’t want to stay here. I don’t know him.” She looked at Brian with a deep scowl. “He frowns a lot!”

Justin smiled, crossed to Belle, pulled her close, and whispered in her ear for a few moments; she kept her eyes trained on Brian the whole time. Finally, she nodded and said, “Okay, but I want to watch Beauty. Will he let me watch Beauty?”

Justin flipped through the DVD case, pulled out a disc, and handed it silently to Brian who still stood, conflicted, on the other side of the sofa. Brian glared and snatched the disc from his hand. He put it in the DVD player and when he turned around, Justin was kissing Belle’s cheek, whispering something else to her, and leaving the apartment.

“So,” Brian said when the door shut, starting an awkward attempt at something other than frowning.

Belle took up the frowning for him, saying, “I can’t see Beauty. You’re too big. Move.” And then as an after thought, “Please?”

Brian moved away from the television, walked into the kitchen, took out a bottle of water, sipped it, watched the back of her head, paced around a lot, then wandered over to sit beside her on the couch just as t.v. Belle was being shown around the Beast’s castle.

Belle scooted over next to him, leaning into his side, her eyes on the television. She pressed her head against his arm and he sat frozen, unsure of this familiarity from a child he didn’t even know. She stuck her hand up in front his face, hoisting the lollipop stick into the air, almost poking him in the eye with it. “All done!” she announced and waited, clearly expecting him to take it from her, which he did, holding it awkwardly as she settled back against him.

“When they dance, you have to dance with me, okay?” she said. “You can be Beast and I’m Belle, because I’m always Belle.”

Brian checked his watch, how much longer could Justin be gone? Christ it seemed like hours already, but it had only been about forty minutes. Soon, then, right?

“This is my favorite part,” Belle said, when the dancing started, and she hopped up from the sofa, grabbed his hand, and said, “Dance!”

“No,” Brian replied, refusing to stand.

“Yes!” she said, pulling on him, frowning suddenly. “You have to! You’re my baby sitter!”

Brian stood up, almost knocking her over. She looked triumphant, until he said, “Listen, I don’t know what you father told you, but I am not your fucking babysitter and I am not doing this.” He gestured at her and around his loft, meaning all of it, the lollipop, the Disney film, the dancing, the acting like he was someone to her that he wasn’t.

Her lips trembled and in a sudden instant her face crumbled, remarkably like Justin’s when he’d been eighteen and broken, and Brian’s stomach dropped. Hell, he’d yelled at a kid; no, not a kid, Justin’s kid, a little girl whose mom was dead, and whose dad was apparently crazed with loneliness to even consider bringing Brian into her life. He thought of Gus, remembered him at this age, considered what he would have done to anyone who’d spoken to his son the way he’d just talked to Belle, and he rubbed a hand over his face. This was exactly why he couldn’t do this.

“Where’s Daddy?” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

“Right here,” Justin said, the loft door sliding closed behind him, his arms loaded down, and an expression of concern on his face.

“He wouldn’t dance, Daddy!” she cried running over, hair streaming out behind her, and her little legs stomping the wood floor in her haste. “He said he’s not my babysitter.”

Justin looked at Brian like he’d lost his mind, and Brian kind of thought that he had. Brian shrugged and closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again Justin was hugging Belle and looking at Brian with hurt eyes.

“This isn’t going to work,” Brian said.

Justin rolled his eyes at him and then said, “Belle, Brian was right. He’s not your baby sitter, he’s Daddy’s friend, and if he didn’t want to dance, then he didn’t have to. Sometimes Brian is cranky.” He walked Belle back to the sofa, sat her down and touched her cheek. “You know how sometimes you wake up and you’re in a bad mood, and then you yell at Daddy and throw your toys?”

“It’s not nice to throw toys,” Belle said solemnly.

“No, it’s not. And you know how sometimes Daddy is in a bad mood and he yells at you over something stupid but then he says he’s sorry?”

“Yeah. It hurts my feelings.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. Well, everyone is cranky sometimes, and Brian is cranky a lot.”

“Like Beast?”

“Hmm, a little like Beast, yes.”

“Beast just needs Belle to love him.”

Brian rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together loudly, dispelling the moment. “Oh, Christ, Belle, that’s just a fucking movie.”

She stuck her chin out and said, “It is not a fucking movie. It is rated G!”

Justin bit his bottom lip and Brian stared in bewilderment at the two of them kneeling on the floor.

“Belle, Brian, let’s just calm down and have some dinner. Grandma will be here soon to take you to Build-a-Bear, okay, Belle?” Justin said in his deep, smooth voice, and Belle seemed to consider for a long moment whether she was done with Brian or not, gazing at him with narrowed eyes.

Finally she announced, “I will have dinner if Brian says that it isn’t a fucking movie.”

Her little voice enunciated the word so clearly that Brian had to actually work to stifle a smile, which just pissed him off more. “Fine. It’s not a fucking movie.”

“Rated G,” Belle said nodding and turning toward the kitchen. “Okay, Daddy, let’s eat!”

:::::

After Jennifer called from the street, unable to find parking, and Justin escorted Belle down to the car to go away with her, Brian sorted through what he wanted to say first, deciding on, “Leave.”

Justin opened the loft door, smiled, leaned against the frame and said, “Let me guess, you want me to leave.”

“Bright boy.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say I know you well.” Justin stepped into the kitchen and started washing dishes, looking as though he has no intention of going anywhere.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Brian asked.

“Washing up,” Justin replied casually.

Brian stood at the counter and said nothing, remembering a time when he’d have tried to bodily remove Justin from his loft. Instead, he waited. If Justin didn’t want to leave, well, it had never really worked to try to make him.

Brian sat down on a bar stool, lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. When Justin only had two dishes left, he asked, “Why are you doing this?”

Justin just looked his confusion at Brian.

“Why are you inflicting me on your child?”

“Because once you stop fighting this, we’ll all be fine. Happy even.”

Brian rubbed his brows and shook his head. He felt defeated, tired, and strangely hopeful. He considered Belle, thought of her brown eyes gazing up at him with curiousity and then, later, with that searing mistrust. He wanted to take a step back, start over again with her; he wished he’d just stood up and danced, taken the hands of Justin’s child and waltzed with her, maybe hummed a song in her ear. He could imagine how it could have gone, the different scene that Justin could have returned to, a scene that Justin no doubt fantasized about. It wouldn’t have been hard to give him that. Brian let the cigarette dangle from his lips, feeling the tension in his body at the thought of how it could have been tonight, felt the fight welling up in his core, the struggle that he always gave in to, and he sighed.

Justin wiped his hands on a cloth and smiled, coming around the side of the counter, turning Brian’s chair, and standing between Brian’s thighs. Brian looked into Justin’s eyes and found them amused, sparkling, and confident.

“Brian,” Justin began, but Brian shook his head, pulled Justin close and held him tight. “I know you think I’m delusional,” Justin whispered. “But this is going to work. It has to work.” He held on to Brian so hard that it hurt, but Brian didn’t move or let go. “I need it to work, Brian. I need you.”

It was more than Brian had ever told Justin in return, but it was more true for Brian than it had ever been for Justin. In the years they’d been apart he’d lived his life, but it was somehow less than he realized it could have been. He’d always said that he no regrets but now, holding onto Justin, he admitted to himself that the words were all fight and no substance. He’d been a shadow boxer, striking out hard at everything, putting so much effort into keeping anything from touching him, holding on to control by thrusting everything else away.

The passing of years had given him a gift he didn’t even want, because now he knew. He’d never had control. Not over this. It’d been the fight of his life and he’d never had a chance of winning because the prize, the control he’d thought he’d needed more than anything else, didn’t even exist. It wasn’t that Justin had wrested it from him; no, it was that it had been illusory from the beginning, a lie he’d learned to believe like Joannie believed in God, because it kept him alive. And just like Joannie’s faith, if he didn’t recognize the lie, then he’d become a walking corpse, too. Or maybe he already was.

“Brian,” Justin whispered, leaning in, pressing his lips to the side of Brian’s mouth gently. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

Oh, but it did. Brian knew that it was just exactly that. Either he’d be a part of Belle’s life or he wouldn’t, either he’d be Justin’s partner or he’d be alone again, because there was no in between, no half-ways when it came to this.

Justin’s lips on his were warm, so much warmer than his own, and he shuddered, cold through to the bone. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his mouth and took in Justin’s tongue, felt Justin’s hands rise to his face, taking over the moment, and Brian let go.

::::

Brian was on his elbows and knees, thighs shaking, and Justin’s cock slamming into him. He couldn’t keep from keening, a noise that seemed to drive Justin harder, and with the next stroke against his prostate, he collapsed to the bed, rutting against the mattress to feel something against his achingly hard cock. Justin grabbed his hips, forcing him back onto his knees and elbows, and Brian scrabbled at the sheets, overwhelmed, fighting the urge to move away from the nearly painful pleasure.

Justin smoothed a hand down Brian’s back, murmuring and saying nonsense that Brian couldn’t even hear above his own noises and the slap of their bodies together. Brian moaned as Justin rubbed warm hands down Brian’s back, and then grabbed Brian’s shoulders, pulling him back onto Justin cock even harder. Justin smacked his thigh hard, and Brian tensed, approaching a level of sensation he wasn’t sure he could handle.

Brian’s eyes rolled back and he felt some drool start to roll down over his bottom lip. He held onto the sheets, relaxed and took Justin’s thrusts, until he couldn’t hold back, shuddering and crying out as he shot his load on the bed. Brian felt the pulsing of Justin’s dick in his ass, and Justin bent to kiss him between the shoulder blades, both of them shaking and breathing hard.

::::

Brian rested on his stomach, his ass in the air, while Justin applied some ointment to his sore hole. He’d been fucked soundly for the first time in years; well, the first time since Justin last fucked him to be exact. It’d been better than he remembered, though no less intense. The last time he’d just wondered what the fuck he was doing letting Justin inside of him that way, and this time he knew the full extent of it, knew what he was agreeing to and what he was letting go of, saying goodbye to illusions and the pretense of control.

Justin flopped down next to him and grinned. “That was pretty hot, huh?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Let you have a piece of my ass and you think you deserve some kind of commendation for a job well done? Sorry, Sunshine, but it wasn’t that good.”

Justin just smirked and Brian knew Justin didn’t believe him. “Yeah, that’s why you couldn’t stop shaking while I was fucking you and at the end, when you came, you sobbed my name.”

Brian scoffed. “You’re delusional.”

Justin smiled in smug satisfaction and yawned. “So, Belle and I will be here for a few more days, but then we’ve got to head back to New York. She starts preschool next week. I don’t suppose that fuck earned me a visit from you the following weekend?”

Brian shrugged and said, “I’ll check my calendar.”

Justin sighed and reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the joint there and lighting it. He took a slow puff and then passed it to Brian. “I loved fucking you, by the way. I mean, I don’t need to make a habit of it, but it was really great.”

Brian smiled prettily and batted his eyes. “Happy to oblige, Mr. Taylor. You can leave the payment on the counter on your way out.”

Justin rolled his eyes and said, “You could at least admit that it was great.”

“Let the fuck speak for itself, Sunshine,” Brian muttered. Christ, he’d opened himself, sealed the deal, and Justin was nudging for more. He felt the tension welling in him, the urge to deny Justin what he wanted, and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and relaxed. “It was great,” he whispered. “You should make a habit of it.”

Justin kissed his shoulder and snuggled in close. Brian wrapped his arm around Justin and smelled his hair, closing his eyes and forcing his body to be calm.

::::

The next morning Justin was gone with a kiss and promise to call later. Brian had leaned heavily against the loft door, wondering what the fuck he’d done, what kind of deal he’d cut for himself, when the phone rang. He would have let it go to the answering service, but he was expecting Ted to call with the latest numbers for Kinnetik and he’d promised to let him know what the Christmas bonuses could be budgeted for based on third quarter earnings.

“Kinney,” he said, without glancing at the caller id.

“Brian, hey, guess what?”

It was Michael. Brian closed his eyes and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Mikey, did you and the professor get stuck with chemically induced hard-ons again? Ted’s the expert in that area, remember? “

“No, asshole. God, we take one too many pills one time and you can’t let it go.”

“Well, Mikey, you have to admit, spending the day with the both of you and your boners in the ER was pretty memorable—as the most boring and useless day of my life.”

“Yeah, well fuck you. But guess what! Hunter and Allison are having a baby! We’re going to be granddaddies!”

Brian groaned and rubbed his face. “Great, Mikey. That’s…awesome.”

“Yeah, and it’s going to be a boy and they’re going to name it after me and Ben! Benjamin Michael! Can you believe it?”

“Yeah, I can. Sadly.”

“They’re going to call him Little Ben!”

“Poor little fucker.”

“And, hey, what’s this I hear about Justin being in town and at your loft?”

“Now, now, now, I see that Theodore can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Don’t blame Ted. It was Cynthia.”

“Gossiping bitch.”

“So, it’s true? You’re fucking him again? Or what?”

“We’re getting married and having babies,” Brian muttered.

Michael laughed. “That’ll be the day. Hey, wait, doesn’t he have a kid? Wait a second, are you joking? You don’t sound like you’re joking.” There was a brief pause before Michael’s voice escalated into near hysteria. “Oh my God, Brian, after everything you went through when he left you? Are you crazy? Have you lost your ever fucking mind?”

“Well, it isn’t like I asked him to move in, Mikey.”

“So you’re just fucking?”

“I told you, we’re making babies. Didn’t Deb teach you--”

“I’m your best friend and if you’re going to up and move to New York, I want to know.”

“Don’t worry, if I decide to move to New York, you’ll be one of the first to know. I’ll send you a nice wedding invite.”

“You shouldn’t be kidding around like this, Brian. There’s a kid involved. You can’t mess with a kid’s head this way. If you’re not going to be there full time then you shouldn’t be there at all.”

“Wait a minute, Mikey. Whose fucking side are you on?”

“Your side! Her side! Everyone’s side, except maybe his side. I mean, I love Justin, but if he’s just here to yank you around again…”

“Michael, shut the fuck up.” Brian rubbed his eyes again.

Michael was silent for a few moments and Brian could just imagine him standing with the phone to his ear and his jaw dropped in shock. Finally, Michael said, “Ma’s gonna shit herself, she’s gonna be so happy about this. Fuck, she’ll probably start planning a wedding.”

“Kill me first.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Michael sounded freaked out. “Shit, me a granddaddy and you a married man.”

“I was kidding, Michael. There’s no wedding.”

“Oh, yeah, right. You always cave to him. If Justin wants a wedding, what do you want to bet there’ll be one?”

Brian groaned, lit a cigarette and inhaled slowly.

::::

Five days later, Brian had miraculously avoided taking any of Debbie’s phone calls, and had even managed to steer clear of her by being out to lunch with a client when she dropped by the Kinnetic offices. The note she left was scathing, though, and full of curse words, but he supposed that’s how he knew she loved him.

Debbie owned the diner now, a gift from Ben and Mikey with the Rage money, but she liked to serve up food to the patrons of Liberty Avenue just like she always had. It wasn’t that he was avoiding her, exactly; he just wasn’t ready for the interrogation yet. Not that he’d do much more than just stare at her when the time came, he was sure, and she’d probably offer to light up with him to take the edge off, which was always creepy, but still, she was the only thing even close to a mom that he had now that Joannie had been out of his life (except for the payments he made to the nursing home Claire had arranged for her), and he knew he should let her lecture him about the situation with Justin, because that’s what moms do.

Brian was expecting Justin when he stepped into the loft after work, and sure enough, Justin was there, making something that smelled decadent in the kitchen. Brian was greeted with a big kiss and a smile, something that he’d missed, something he could stand to get used to again. Something that he’d have to live for three whole days without, but that was okay; that was managable. He fingered the flight plan carried a copy of in his pocket. He’d arranged for a pilot and submitted the plan that morning but he hadn’t even told Justin that he’d done it.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” Justin replied, gently nipping Brian’s bottom lip. “Go get out of those clothes. Dinner will be ready any second.”

Brian considered dropping his pants right there and fucking Justin up against the refrigerator, but he was tired, and hungry, and he’d spent half of his day being completely unproductive fantasizing about sex with Justin and the other half sitting in sweating, paralyzed fear of what he’d apparently committed himself to, and he really needed to get a shower, so he headed toward his bedroom, tugging at his tie, and looking forward to a pair of soft sweats and a t-shirt.

“Oh, hey, be quiet, okay?” Justin softly called as Brian stepped up to the bedroom.

Brian stopped in his tracks staring at his bed in horror.

“Belle’s sleeping,” Justin finished.

Brian stared at the little girl in his bed wearing nothing but Cinderella pull-up training pants, her thighs looking like larger versions of the warm, sweet yeast rolls his mother used to serve at Thanksgiving.

“There is a child in my bed,” Brian said, hearing Justin’s footsteps behind him. He turned to look at Justin accusatorily. Justin lifted his brows in amusement. “There is a child in my bed. The bed that I fuck people in. The bed that I fuck you in. Just this morning I had my dick so far up your ass that you shot your load all over the sheets and now there is a child in that bed.”

“I changed the sheets.”

Brian grabbed Justin’s arm and pointed at the bed in aggravation. He was speechless. He couldn’t even begin to express the wrongness of what he was seeing.

Justin sighed. “She isn’t some magic talisman who is going to de-sexify your bed, Brian.”

Brian stared at Belle, her wet thumb resting beside her sweetly open mouth, her eyelashes dark on her cheeks, her face artless and adorable in sleep. Brian shook his head in frustration. His bed was the most unsexy thing he’d ever seen in his life. “I want her out of my bed. Now.”

Justin crossed his arms and whispered, “Then you move her.” Brian glared at him. “Then be quiet before you wake her up!”

Brian threw up his hands and walked into his bathroom before quietly, carefully, gently slamming the sliding door shut.

::::

It only took a few minutes of staring at himself in the bathroom mirror and splashing cold water on his face for him to get a grip. If he was going to do this thing with Justin, then he’d have to get used to a kid being around—a lot.

He took deep breaths. If this this thing with Justin went on for a few months or more, and if it seemed like they were going to make it work, fuck, he should just consider moving, getting a place in the suburbs or something, someplace child-friendly, like in the frankenhomo neighborhood that Mikey and Ben lived in.

He thought about that, really considered it, staring at his own eyes in the mirror for a few moments, picturing the possible house, imagining a swingset in the backyard, Justin standing in the shade, smiling as Belle swung up and up, and…it didn’t make him want to throw up. He didn’t feel unmitigated joy like when he’d purchased the villa in Tuscany, or bought his first jet, but it didn’t make him want to die, either. Huh. That could be considered progress—or something.

In fact, when he focused on Justin smiling, well, it kind of made him feel….

He shut down his thoughts. He turned away from the mirror and paused, feeling that familiar fighting tension, and he started to tremble. Okay, okay, okay, damn it, he’d do it. He’d think it. If he couldn’t even think it then, what good was it to even try to live it? Okay, fine. It made him feel safe.

And with that thought the tension drained away.

He dismissed that it made no logical sense, that the person who could most destroy him, and had, more than once, was also the only person he felt safe with now. It was hard work to even allow it, but he could do it. He could let it go.

Brian pulled on the sweats he’d grabbed on his way into the bathroom and quietly opened the door so as not to disturb Belle. She was still sleeping peacefully, and he slid the drawer open to get the t-shirt without waking her. She shifted a little, her brown curls falling onto her cheek, and Brian reached out to gently brush it away, but stopped just before his hand touched her cheek.

Brian looked down at Belle’s little face. He was allowed. That was part of the deal, too, that he could be something to this child, someone that she cared for and who cared for her, and he thought that might be all right with him, too.

Her cheek felt like flower petals and her hair was softer than he’d thought possible.

::::

Belle woke up as Brian and Justin were finishing dinner, and she appeared at the top of the stairs to the bedroom rubbing her eyes and clutching her arms around her tummy. “I’m cold,” she said, whining a little with sleepiness. “And hungry. I need help.” The last word was drawn out in a long plea.

Justin repressed a smile, though it hit his eyes, and he said, “Let’s get some clothes on, then. I brought your Blues Clues pajamas or the pink ones with the stars.”

“Stars!” Belle said, rushing across the room to Justin, all remnants of sleep banished.

“You’re both spending the night?” Brian asked, wondering how and if that would impact them fucking. Justin had spent the night the last several days, but Jennifer had picked Belle up and taken her for time with Grandma for the night, leaving them with some privacy.

Justin had already claimed the pajamas from the bag he schlepped everwhere and handed them to Belle who needed no help getting into them. “Yeah, our plane is leaving really early in the morning. It just made more sense.”

“You could’ve used my jet and left any time you wanted.”

Justin smiled and waved the offer off. “Well, I couldn’t count on that when I came down, now could I? For all I knew you’d shacked up with someone else since I’d been gone.”

Brian smirked.

Justin’s face softened and he pulled Belle into his lap, trying to give her a hug, despite her squirming. “You know, you’re the most committed guy I think I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

Brian lifted a brow.

“I mean, it’s always just been me really. And me? Well, I was so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, you said no more of that word!” Belle raised her chin in indignation. “You said!”

Justin cringed. “You’re right, Belle. I said. So, since I said, and I messed up, you get one dollar toward that Barbie castle you’ve been wanting.”

“How many more times do you have to say it before I can afford it?”

“Twenty,” Justin answered.

Belle slid off his lap, looking immensely satisfied.

“Unfortunately, I’ll probably say it twenty more times and she’ll end up with that horrible antifeminist piece of plastic crap,” Justin muttered to Brian as Belle began to prance like a pony, galloping to the opposite side of the room.

Belle picked up a cigarette, sniffed it, and then started using it as a magic wand.

“If she says it, then she loses a dollar,” Justin went on, watching her, too. “Belle, honey, don’t play with that. That’s…for grown ups.”

“It’s a magic wand!”

Justin didn’t really make a move to stop her, his eyes were intense, but apparently not really focused on his daughter. “She’s growing up too fast. She knows too much about stuff that she shouldn’t. Like the movies, you know, the f’ing movies?” Justin tensed, his jaw clenching, and his eyes narrowing. “I made a mistake. Trusted someone I shouldn’t have. It was the final straw.”

Belle was dancing, singing a song about chicken soup with rice and shaking her head around, seemingly oblivious to Brian and Justin’s conversation.

“I wasn’t really dating him. I’d slept with him a few times, which was stupid because he was just a kid,” Justin said.

“I know the feeling,” Brian muttered.

“Yeah, well,” Justin shrugged, still intent on his story. “Jeffy was nothing like me. He was more like, I don’t know, maybe how Emmett was as a kid. No, not Emmett. I don’t know.”

“Wait, his name was Jeffy,” Brian took a sip of wine and rolled his eyes.

“Unfortunate, huh? But, yeah, and I thought Jeffy was a good kid, and maybe he was, but he was stupid, which I didn’t know, and careless, and thoughtless, and I used him as a babysitter.” Justin let the last bit of that sentence linger meaningfully.

Brian’s stomach tightened and he leaned forward, turning his attention from Justin to Belle, small arms waving in the air, and her little voice echoing in the loft. “Did he hurt her?”

“God, no!” Justin exclaimed, shuddering. “Not physically, no. If he had, I’d be in prison because he’d be dead. But, he did watch porn when she was around. That fucker. That fucking fucker.”

“Daddy! Three dollars!” Belle sing-songed, “ I’m gonna get the castle!”

Brian grimaced, disgusted and angry. “Did he…” Brian trailed off, looking at Belle, trying to figure out how to ask it without her knowing what he was saying.

“Beat the weasel with her there, too? I don’t think so. He wasn’t doing that when I caught him.”

“I want to kill him,” Brian whispered, a murderous rage trembling through him.

“I almost did. I would have but Jake was there and he stopped me. ”

Brian remained grimly silent.

“Jake was my boyfriend. He was…” Justin trailed off.

“Jake!” Belle yelled, running toward Justin. “Can we see him tomorrow? Can we?”

“Belle, sweetheart, remember I told you that Jake wasn’t going to be around much anymore? Jake and Daddy had a fight and he won’t be visiting like he used to.”

“Why’d you have to fight?” Belle asked, lip jutting out.

Justin sighed. “It was grown-up stuff, Belle.”

Belle narrowed her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and said, “You sent him away.”

Justin closed his eyes. Belle looked like she might cry, and then she turned to Brian. “I heard it all! Daddy said, ‘Bye, Jake, it’s over.’ And Jake cried and said, ‘Please’, but Daddy was mean, and then Jake left.”

Justin pulled her close, ran a hand over her hair, trying to soothe her. “Belle, do you want to watch some DVDs? Maybe Shrek IV?”

She stared at the floor for a few moments, her face hidden, and when she looked up again her eyes were shining. “Beauty,” she countered.

“Okay,” Justin said, standing up to set her up at the television.

Brian sat in silence drinking his wine and fighting down the swell of rage inside. When Justin returned, quiet and grim, Brian said nothing, continuing to drink.

Justin sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting until Belle was fully engaged in the movie. “I talk about too much stuff in front of her. I forget that she understands. I forget that she’s listening. Sometimes I’m a terrible father.”

Brian shook his head and took another sip of wine.

Justin continued talking. “I sent Jake away after what happened with Jeffy because I realized then that I was just wasting my time. I talked to Daph about everything, how I felt, what I wanted, and she said, ‘Well, Justin, what are you waiting for? Stop moping and go get him.’ So, here I am, and I sent Jake away. He didn’t undertand, but I never loved him, not like that. Not like I know how to love.” Justin looked at Brian then, challenging him to say something, anything really.

Brian took a huge swallow of wine and then spoke, the words hurting his throat as he forced them out. “It was only time. It wouldn’t matter to me if it was a month or a year or ten years or never.”

Justin, stunned, made a soft gasping sound, almost like he made during sex. “I love you, Brian,” Justin whispered, looking him right in the eye as he said it.

Brian stood up, walked around the table, pulled Justin up and held him close. He could hear Belle singing along with the Disney film behind him, could smell Justin’s hair pressed under his nose, and the tight strength of Justin’s arms around him. He ducked his head down, took a deep breath, and whispered in Justin’s ear, “I love you.”

The world felt wobbly under his feet, but he’d said what he had to say, and Justin was still there in his arms, he still had a little kid in his loft watching Disney films, and he still had every intention of using that flight plan this weekend, learning about Barbie castles, and killing Jeffy if he ever saw him. Somehow, this was becoming his life, and he was okay with that.

::::

Procede to PART TWO