BRIAN'S POV

Wake up and he’s here. Passed out sound asleep on my arm, snoring softly. I remember him telling me he has a shift at the diner, but not till 10:30, so he has time to sleep and I have time to lie here and let quiet minutes pass till I have to face this fucking day.

Tick.

Stare at the ceiling.

Tick.

Listen to his breathing.

Tick.

Close my eyes.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The incessant ticking of the clock works its way into my brain, making me aware of each second flashing by, each moment of my life spilling away. Each spin of the hand around the dial takes me closer to dealing with everything that today means. How pivotal today can be. Could be. Will be.

Fuck. Don't think about it.

I open my eyes slowly and twist my head around to stare at Justin, his features soft with sleep, hair splayed out across the pillow and falling into his face.

I don’t want him to go to work today. I wanna lie in bed and fuck and sleep and stare at him. All fucking day. Wanna pretend the whole outside world doesn’t exist. Pretend that there’s no election and that when I finally get out of bed I’ll see all my shit still here and I’ll have that satisfied feeling inside that everything is going my way.

But.

Nope.

Listen to the traffic noise outside my window. Justin’s deep sleepy breath. The clock ticking.

I slowly become aware of his fingers gripping my bicep, kneading my muscles gently. He’s probably been doing it all night, and I imagine I’ve got a dark bruise on my skin from his fingers.

Don’t care. Wouldn’t be the first time... know it won’t be the last. And it’s almost comforting. Like he’s checking to make sure I’m here. Subconsciously holding on to me. I don’t mind that. Not really... not at all.  I wrap my fingers around his wrist lightly and feel his pulse beneath my thumb. Hold on to him too.

Deep breath. In. Out. Don’t think about shit. About today. About what I have to face.

Just focus on the warmth of his skin on mine, the way the heat from our bodies feel so intense pressed together. His fingertips pushing into my muscle. His chest moving as each breath pulls in and out of his lungs. Focus on all those things I often take for granted. Things I never ever fucking wanted, but now crave when they’re not here.

Soft breath on my skin. A palm pressed into my arm. A foot draped over mine. The warmth of another body. Never thought I’d want that. Now I can’t sleep without it. Now the bed feels empty without it. Without him.

I remember that first night he slept here. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t curl up into my body like he does now. He just lay there in bed, his head resting on the pillow like it was his own. Knees pulled up to his chest. I fell asleep with his eyes searching my face, and when I woke up, he was still staring at me. Blue eyes just focused on mine. When I stared back, he didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, didn’t try to pretend he hadn’t been staring.

He just kept looking at me.

I wondered if he’d slept at all. Wondered if he’d spent the whole fucking night staring at me.

And even now, even after all this time, he still does that sometimes. Some mornings, I open my eyes, and he’s looking back at me. Smiling. And he never looks away.

But then again, some mornings I stare at him, watching him sleep. His soft features relaxed, with his lips parted, pale perfect skin, and locks of blond hair lying across his forehead.

When he’s asleep, I can’t see how much he’s grown up. Can’t see that dark slash of blue that’s buried deep inside his gaze. Can’t see the way he’s sometimes nervous, sometimes scared, sometimes furious. Can’t see the challenge, the obstinacy, the persistence, the anger, the rage, the pride, the... everything he’s fucking got since he first came into this life.

Can’t see the way he’s changed.

The way things have changed him. Things like time. Me. Getting reality smashed into his head with a fucking baseball bat.

No. Can’t even really see the scar on his temple when he’s asleep and the hair is falling across his forehead.

Can’t see any of that.

Instead I see that kid... the one that somehow drew me in, that I fucked more than once, that followed me around with a stupid crush and a fucking mountain of expectations.

But I can’t pretend he’s that kid. There’ve been proms and baseball bats and rules and violin players. There’ve been apologies and confessions and angry words that can never be taken back.

There has simply been too much for him to ever be that kid again.

Fuck.

And if I was being honest... and why the hell shouldn’t I be honest, now, after all that's happened and is going to happen...

Maybe I would admit that I’ve grown up too. That I’m not quite the prick I used to be.

You know, the one that pushed him away over and over again. The one that tried so fucking hard to smash his hopes, to make him believe that there could never be love in this world. That there could never be anything...

Like this.

Yeah, that prick. The one I was so fucking proud to be. The one I worked so fucking hard to be.

The one that seems to have gotten a little lost lately.

Lost behind some posters and unemployment and a couple million fabulous fucks. Lost behind a mess of blond hair and blue eyes and a determination that has fucking won me over.

No. I don’t think I’m that person anymore. Not now. Not right fucking now.

I pick up a few strands of his hair and let them slip through my fingers slowly, falling back to the pillow and cascading across the cotton.

Glance at the clock. Nearly 9:30. How the *fuck* am I gonna make it through today?

I open my eyes and he’s staring at me. Wide hazel eyes searching my face. He looks serious and worried and almost scared and he’s got his fingers wrapped around my wrist like he’s holding on to me, afraid that I’ll somehow leave.

I won’t do that. Not again. But it’s all my fucking fault that he looks at me like that. That he feels that way. And it makes me feel shitty and ungrateful and like I’ve been unfair. I know he’s been pretty shitty and ungrateful and unfair to me lots of times. But I don’t care. I didn’t ever want to hurt him, and...

I push all those stupid thoughts out of my head and curl up closer to him, kissing him on the throat and burying my face into his chest. Smelling the sweat and cum from Babylon last night, and catching the light from tiny sparkles still stuck to his skin and hair and littering the sheets and pillows. He puts his hand on the back of my neck and presses me to him, kissing the top of my head and swirling his fingers in my hair, breathing into my scalp.

So comfortable and warm and still so sleepy and kinda hungover and I feel myself start to slip away back into sleep... slowly, slowly...

“Justin,” Brian’s voice cuts through my haze and I drift back to consciousness again.

“Hmmm,” I can’t speak. Takes too much effort.

“Don’t go back to sleep,” he stops stroking my hair and his hand is heavy and warm on the back of my head.

I moan and try to move, but... nuh-uh. “Wanna stay here,” I mumble against his chest, my lips brushing against his skin, tasting the salty remains of sweat from last night.

He breathes in and out and it’s relaxing and calming and making me sleepy sleepy sleepy...

“Justin,” I hear Brian’s voice again, a deep rumble in his chest.

I groan and start to stretch my arms up over my head, but he surprises me and pushes hard on my shoulder, rolling me to the bed face first, and climbing onto my back, knees at my sides and ass resting on my thighs.

I muffle out a grunt then start laughing, his fingers stroking my along my sides, tickling lightly. “What’re you doing,” I ask, knowing damn well what he’s doing.

“Waking you up,” he leans over me and breathes hotly in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. My dick perks up at the silky sound of his voice drifting into my head, and I snuggle down into the sheets, pushing the pillow aside and crossing my hands under my head.

“Hmm... okay,” I grin and close my eyes, feeling goosebumps rise on my skin from his light tickles down my spine.

He leans back a little and I hear the open and close of a drawer, then the flip of a cap and hmm... he slides his finger between my ass cheeks and touches my hole lightly, his finger covered in lube, slipping around my skin.

“That feels good,” I mumble into the sheets, bunching up the cotton beneath my fingers.

He slides the pad of his finger back and forth across my hole a few times, creating a friction that he knows I fucking love, until I push my hips up as much as I can with his weight on my thighs.

“You want more?” he whispers harshly into my ear, wet lips dragging across my earlobe.

I nod against the sheets, my eyes closed hard, and I bite my lips in anticipation. Of not knowing what he's going to do, and knowing that I fucking want everything and anything right now. His hand slides down my ass, then he presses his thumb between my cheeks, pushing them apart, and squirts a big, gooey glob of KY right down my crack. Feels cool and sticky and fucking makes me hot, and I get ready to be fucked, but instead he slides up my thighs a little, his balls brushing against my ass and then he... oh, holy shit. He presses his cock along my ass crack. Between my cheeks. His naked cock. Fuck. Sliding against my hole. Just a thick film of lube separating us.

I push down inside, opening up more, and he starts rocking his dick in my ass crack, rubbing against my sensitive hole, slipping around in the lube and Christ, it’s so sexy and I reach behind me and grab onto him, any part of him and hold him tight against me, just feeling hot skin on skin and my mouth is dry and I can’t open my eyes...

He falls down onto my back and breathes on me, hot air trailing across my neck and slithering down my spine, and holy *fuck* am I awake now. He's shaking a little, muscles quivering as he holds himself against my back, my fingers digging into his hips, pressing into his skin, holding him to me hard, and we have that split fucking second of... ffuuuuuuuucccckkkkkkk... when I think I could cum right here and I think he could cum right here, and we're not even fucking, just humping, just doing this quasi-fucking bareback but God, it's close and intense, his dick throbbing against my hole, along the crack of my ass, heart beating in his cock and it’s so hot... pre-cum from the tip of his dick touching me in the small of my back and my cock squished between our bodies, hard and leaking against my belly, wanting more, needing more...

Gotta breathe, gotta breathe... oh God, gotta breathe. Slip sliding skin on skin. More, harder, more, hotter, more, more moremoremore...

And then he sighs hard and I let him go... loosening my grip on his thigh, my hand crampy and sweaty from holding on so fucking tight. He slides up out of my crack, his cock touching me on my lower back, leaving a streak of pre-cum on my skin, drying cool in the air. Hear the rip, tear of a condom, then he’s back, pressing his cock against my hole, pushing inside and it feels so good I can’t imagine it feeling any better... I open up wide for him, let him in all the way and he lies down on my back, covering my whole body, sliding his legs on top of mine, arms beside mine and forehead pressed into the back of my neck. Fuck. Inside. All inside.

His lips on my shoulder, not kissing, just brushing across my skin, wet and warm, his hair touching the side of my face, soft whispers on my cheek that tickle and make me shake inside. A mere lift of his hips and he presses on me on all the good places inside, and then fucks me slowly, so slowly, so very slowly, just a rise and fall of hips, drawing out just barely, and sliding in so deep. I shift back and forth against the mattress, following his dick, tightening my muscles around his cock to keep him inside, making him push out a heavy breath every time I do. We move together, molded into each other’s bodies, fitting together so tightly and perfectly that I capture each sensation racing through his body as explicitly as I feel each one of my own. 

He lifts up a little and slides his legs over mine and pushes my thighs together tightly, squeezing my ass around his cock and making everything feel fucking intense inside me... I arch up back into him, but he presses his chest onto my back, leveling me to the mattress. I suck in breath after breath, my tongue stuck in my dry mouth and I can barely move or breathe or think, just coast on the rushing sound of blood flowing through my body, my heart hammering and my dick pounding in a split second echo with every thump of my heart in my chest.

Kisses on the side of my face, tongue playing over my ear, lightly licking at me... I imagine I hear words and whispers, imagine I hear things and I maybe I do, maybe I don’t... just breathy gasps and moans that mean nothing and everything. He slides into me so easily, over and over again, but now it’s so tight, so intense, so much *more* and I clench my ass hard around him, holding him inside against me, pulling him deeper and deeper and God, I feel kinda shaky and start breathing out in little huffs, everything so heavy and tight everywhere...

He grips my wrists and pulls my hands from under my head, pressing his warm fingers on top of mine, weaving between mine, and I feel so fucking close to him, feel part of him, feel like he’s completely and totally captured me. That I’m his. Completely his.

That deep intense sensation way down inside me gets more and more and he doesn’t slow, doesn’t falter, just keeps rocking into me over and over and Christ, my balls are tingling, my dick hot and thumping against my belly, my ass so full of his cock, and he pushes my thighs together tight, tight and it presses on me fucking everywhere good and oh, oh, oh! The pounding is intense and moremoremore and then... oh fuck... I completely crest out, letting go... this long, slow, orgasm flows through me, waves and waves washing over me, beating through me, drums hammering in my ears, rythmic and constant, seeming to go on and on and echoing through my entire body...

I start to take a deep breath, but push it out in a rush of air as he drives his cock into me hard and fast, fucking me quickly, rubbing my body against the sheets, sliding in my cum and oh Christ, I might just cum again... milk his cock with my ass, clenching hard and pulling him inside until I feel him twitch and hear him gasp and then oh... he cums inside me, holding me tightly to him, crushing me to the bed, my cum wet against my skin, my cock lying in it, the sheets warm with it, sticky against me. He doesn’t let go, just keeps squeezing my fingers in his, hot palms against the backs of my hands, and warm kisses against my face. Hard inside me still and I feel kind of shaky and like with just a few more strokes, I’d be shooting again.

But there’s work and elections and life. And we can’t get lost like this. Can’t afford to get lost like this. Not right now, anyway.

“Brian,” I say quietly.

He humms softly, kissing me on the temple.

I smile and he licks at my lips. “I’m awake now.”

“Mm-hmmm,” he breathes out and kisses me again. “Just feels good,” he moans into my ear then sighs loudly. Fingers release mine, and he lifts up from my back, slowly sliding out of me, the air cool as it washes over my damp skin. He rolls onto the bed beside me, and touches me on the side lightly, fingers trailing against my skin.

“You’re gonna be late,” he points at the clock behind me, and I slowly lift my head and see the time.

“Shit!” I quickly roll out of bed when I see how late I seriously am gonna be, but when my feet hit the floor I feel kind of shaky and fall back onto the bed. “What the fuck did you to do me?” I laugh out, and stand up slowly this time, my knees holding my weight as I shuffle to the bathroom.

He laughs quietly and I glance behind me, watching as he rolls over onto his back, pulling the sheet up to his waist.

Get into the shower, and wow, the hot water feels so good, washing away the cum and sweat and fuck knows what else from my skin. Don’t remember everything from last night, just know there was fucking on the floor and tequila shots that spilled down my neck and blow jobs from tricks and that I really needed a shower. Wash my hair and soap my skin and rinse off and ah, feel half-way human again.

I quickly dry off and sort through the clothes on the floor, looking for something even just close to clean that I could wear. Honestly, at this point, anything without any cum on it would be nice. I walk quietly into the bedroom, and Brian’s still in bed, rolled over onto his side, with his back to me, his shoulders slowly rising and falling, and I think maybe he’s fallen back asleep.

As quietly as I can, I open up one of his drawers and steal one of his clean t-shirts, pulling it on, then throwing my dirty clothes on over top. Just having something clean against my skin makes me feel decent. Christ, either I bring more clothes over here or I learn how to use Brian’s washing machine.

But either one of those things seem a little too, um... committed, I guess, and I don’t, fucking *don’t* want to rush anything. Can’t. Not yet.

I pull on my shoes, and lightly tread around the side of the bed, wondering if he really is asleep or just pretending. But his eyes are closed, and his lips parted, and he looks asleep. I bend down in front of him and touch his hair lightly, brushing it off his forehead, wanting to kiss him and tell him that everything is going to be okay today and not to worry and that no matter what happens, it doesn’t matter because he did all he could.

But.

He won’t hear me. Wouldn’t hear me if he was awake anyway. Instead I lean in close to his ear and kiss him lightly, not wanting to wake him. I start to pull away, then stop, thinking of all the things I really want to say to him. All the things I could tell him right now when he’s asleep and I’ll feel better that I said them to him, and he’ll never know that he let me say them. He’ll never feel like I was wanting a response or waiting for him to say something back. Because I wouldn’t want him to say anything back, but I know he would feel like I would expect him to anyway.

Christ, words fuck shit up sometimes.

So I don’t say anything. I keep it inside. And know that there will be a good time to say those things one day.

Just feel good feeling this way. Knowing that I feel this way.

Reluctantly I stand up, letting his hair fall from my fingers, and I don’t let myself look back because I know I’ll cave in and say the things and stay here with him and fuck, it’s just not the right time. No matter how I feel, I know it’s not the right time for him.

So I grab my bag, and slip out the door, locking it behind me, and get on with this day.

BRIAN’S POV

I don’t know why I pretended to be asleep. I guess I couldn’t face him. Not right now. Not when I know that he thinks these things of me. Thinks things that I just don’t feel right now. Proud. Accomplished. Satisfied.

I know he would tell me that everything would be okay and maybe tell me that he loves me and maybe I really need to hear that, on some level deep inside me, but I can’t. Not right now. Not today.

Today isn’t about me or him or me and him. It’s about everybody.

I think.

God, I don’t fucking know.

I roll over onto my back and feel where his lips lingered over my face. Feel where his warm breath touched my skin and where he hovered there, considering, I imagine, things that I might and might not want to hear.

He knows me so well it scares me.

I slide out of bed, rubbing my face with my palms that smell like him and hold my fingers over my nose and smell him and realize that this day will go nowhere if I spend it jacking off to Justin’s smell on my skin. I pull on my track pants and a hoodie and my running shoes and head out.

Outside, the air is crisp and clean and refreshing. I wake up instantly, the wind biting at my cheeks and it makes me feel alive and good. I jog to the park, then head into a full on run around the lake, racing around the track countless times, passing people on benches and mothers with strollers and couples holding hands and cuddling together in the cold winter air.

Sweat pours off me and chills my skin, my feet start aching, muscles screaming and my heart pounds in my chest, pounds good and hard and every breath I take sears into my lungs, cold, wicked breath pushing in and pushing out and egging me on to keep going and going until I finally can’t. Can’t run anymore and I slow down to a walk, sucking in the cold air, drops of sweat pouring off me and still I smell like Justin and it makes me smile.

I walk back to the loft slowly, letting my heart catch up in my chest, my breathing slow back to normal. My muscles feel invigorated and used and stretched out and I love that exhausted feeling from running too much. From abusing my body physically with too much exercise, with too much exertion, with pushing myself beyond my limits.

Fuck, I feel better now. Much fucking better.

Get back to the loft and hit the shower, letting the hot water spill over my cold skin and wash away everything. I stand under the spray for long, long minutes, till my fingers get wrinkled and my skin starts to burn.

Take my time with drying off and shaving and styling my hair and just wandering around... put on some clean clothes and take note of how many t-shirts Justin has borrowed from me. I’m gonna have to buy some new ones at this rate.

Maybe I should just buy *him* t-shirts and leave them in his drawer.

Then I remember that I owe a hundred thousand dollars and realize that I ain’t gonna be buying anything for awhile.

Head into the kitchen and drink the last of the guava juice and eat a banana and try to ignore the stack of papers that I really should be going through... bills and unemployment forms and the career section of the newspaper. But, fuck. I can’t deal with that now. Can’t. Just can’t.

I need coffee. I need a diversion.

Mikey.

So I head over to the comic shop, and convince Mikey that he needs to take a break—to vote of course—and he looks at me, giving me that narrowed-eyed, sideways look. Trying to channel Captain Astro and his mind reading abilities or something.

“What?” I ask him, as he glances at me for the third time as he’s locking up the comic shop.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks, and stands in front of me, crossing his arms.

I laugh. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he retorts, punching me in the arm. “Tell me, Kinney.”

I shake my head. I wanna tell him, but I don’t know how. Don’t even know where to begin.

“C’mon, let’s go to the diner,” I kiss him hard on the lips and he shuts up. That always works. Works on Michael. Just wish I could get it to work on Justin too.

We get there and I try to grab a lemon bar, but Deb’s acting all high and mighty and won’t even let us fucking *eat* until we vote. I feel like I’ve submitted far too many votes already—a hundred thousand to be exact—but she’s right. We should do it now and get it the fuck over with.

Justin’s there at the diner setting up the TV, his attention focused on the news program. There’s fucking Stockwell denying everything, the shit, and it makes me shake my head. And makes me glad that I did it.

“Looks like we’re gonna starve unless we vote, so we’d better get going,” Michael says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Just hang on,” I say, and watch as they play a portion of the ad during the newscast, and I smile because, hey, I didn’t even have to pay for that exposure. Then it’s over and the news changes, and Justin looks up at me, grinning, his whole face all wide with a smile, and it makes me grin back.

“Okay, let’s go do our civic duty,” I wrap my arm around Michael’s neck and we head outside into the cold air towards the voting station.

“Wonder who the fuck made those ads, hunh?” he asks, incredulously.

I pull my lips into my mouth and hold back a smile. “I wonder, indeed,” I say quietly.

“Wait a second,” Michael grabs my arm and stops me. “Why the fuck do I get the feeling that... that...” he stumbles with the words.

“Yeah, Mikey,” I say.

“You?” he asks, his eyes popping out of his head.

I nod slowly, smiling a little smugly at him.

“But... but that must’ve cost like... like, thousands of dollars!” his voice climbs up an octave and his eyebrows furrow into that worried frown he’s worn too much in his life.

I smooth my thumb across his forehead to even out the wrinkle. “Now, now, Mikey. It was a hundred thousand dollars,” I say, swallowing hard around the words, but the smile staying on my face. Feels surreal to say it. Harder to say it than it was to do it.

He stops dead in his tracks. “Fuck! Oh, fuck! Brian!”

I can’t help it. Can’t fucking help it. He makes me laugh out loud. And it makes it all better. “Calm down, Mikey!” I gasp between laughs.

“But... you don’t have a hundred thousand dollars... do you?” he asks.

I shake my head quickly. “I sure as fuck don’t anymore.”

“How...” he stops, and shoves his hands in his pockets, the wrinkle creasing up his forehead again.

Feel my shoulders lift and fall in an attempt at a shrug. “I have stuff, Michael. I sold it,” I say, starting to walk again. “Oh, that and credit cards,” I snicker, but it’s not funny anymore. Just the truth now.

“You put yourself in debt to the tune of.... I can’t even say it, I’ll have a panic attack,” he says, shaking his head.

I just smile at him and offer him my last stick of gum. How ironic.

He takes it from me and we get in line to vote.

Brian’s back at the diner an hour or so before my shift is over, hanging around at the front counter, listening to the conversations around him. He’s a really good listener. A lot of people would never think that about him, but he is. It’s what makes him so good at his job.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I clear up the last of the dishes and wipe down tables. He sips his coffee slowly and keeps brushing Debbie away as she tries to get him to order some food. It makes me feel kind of sick to think that he can’t afford it now.

But then my shift is over and he’s standing up and following me to the door, and I suddenly realize that he was *waiting* for me, and I look at him, smiling.

“What?” he asks, slinging his arm over my shoulder.

“Nothing,” I say back, shaking my head at him.

“Shut up,” he grins and presses his lips to mine, a warm coffee kiss that spills through me and makes me lose my breath.

I break the kiss and stare at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

He raises his eyebrows at me in that way he does. “You didn’t have to,” he kisses me again. “I heard you thinking it.”

“Okay then, why were you waiting for me?” I look at the ground and keep walking to hide my smile.

“Dunno,” he says, fingers twisting in-between mine. “Wanna fuck?” he pushes his other hand into my jacket, and pulls at my shirt.

“You know I always wanna fuck,” I say. “But...”

“But what?” he plucks at my nipple lightly through my shirt and I jump back, swatting his hand away.

“Everyone’s gonna be at Woody’s,” I stop and stand in front of him to make him stop walking.

He stops and scrunches up his nose. “Yeah... I know.”

“I promised Deb I’d be there. She’d freak if I wasn’t.”

He nods slowly.

“So... c’mon,” I pull at his arm, trying to drag him towards Woody’s. “We’ll go, have a couple drinks, watch the results, and if he wins, we’ll go to Babylon and fuck our brains out.”

He looks at me, a quizzical look on his face. “And if he loses?”

“Well... okay, same thing. But still!” I tug on him again, laughing.

He twists his mouth around, thinking, deliberating. I know he doesn’t want to go. I know he doesn’t want to talk to anyone or see it pushed in his face if he wins. Or loses. But he has to be there. He *should* be there. No matter what happens.

“C’mon,” I say again, and take a few steps backwards up the street towards Woody’s.

He comes closer and takes my hand again, kissing me on the side of the face. He doesn’t say anything, just walks quietly beside me on the slushy sidewalk.

We get there and perch on our favourite stools at the bar. It’s early still and the crowd is pretty thin, but the TV is already tuned to the election results, which are slowly starting to trickle in.

I order us a couple drinks, and Brian takes a small sip of his, then leans on the bar, chin on his arm. Elbows sticking out. His shirt pulls up from his pants and the band of his underwear peeks out the top of his jeans.

I lean my chin in my hand and stare at him. He doesn’t look back. Just stares straight ahead. I’ve fucking never seen him like this and it kinds of scares me. He’s just... despondent, I guess.

“Hey,” I put my hand on his elbow, and he straightens up, glancing at me, a vague smile on his face. He sips at his JB, then puts the glass back down on the counter carefully, adjusting the coaster, twisting it around and around until I put my hand on his wrist to stop him.

“Cut it out,” I say quietly, rubbing my thumb against his skin, brushing against the fine hairs and the tendons in his wrist.

He just keeps staring straight ahead.

I start to talk, about nothing... telling him about how Debbie harassed the customers today, how my mom called to say she sold a house, how Daph asked for cock sucking advice, the new ideas I had for Rage.

Telling him anything. Nothing.

Rubbing my thumb across him methodically. Ignoring Deb’s hollers when she came in. The shouts of hello from Lindsay. Ignoring the TV getting louder and the bar filling. Just talking really quietly and touching him softly.

Finally I stop, and his expression doesn’t change. He stares at my thumb against his skin. Puts his hand on top of mine. Smiles.

“You told me it would work out. So... it will.” I lean into him and kiss him lightly. His fingers snake up into my hair and hold me to him, kissing, breathing into each other, wet lips and slick tongues slipping across one another and tuning out everything else. Just tasting and touching. I slip off the stool and lean into him closer. Put my hand on his thigh and brush my fingers across the denim of his jeans. Breathe in the smell of JB and cologne and get high on his breath. Gentle touches of our lips together. Mouths opening and closing around our tongues sliding across lips. Nothing frantic. Nothing heavy. Just kissing and feeling good. Everything else spins around us, but this... *this* is always the same. The harder we fight it, the more apparent it becomes. The more we deny it, the more real it is. I wrap my fingers into the short hairs on the back of his neck, twisting them across my skin. Holding him to me with soft kisses that last forever.

But then forever stops. His lips pull away and he presses his forehead against mine.

“I get hard just kissing you,” I say it in a loud whisper and he laughs through his nose, grabbing big handfuls of my hair. His eyes are closed and his skin feels warm against mine. I still feel the memory of his lips on mine. Millions of kisses that have left behind little traces of the things he can't say.

“Hey! Boys!” Debbie’s voice cuts through everything else and I jump a little at the sound.

“I believe we’re being summoned,” Brian’s voice slides into my brain.

I nod a little, and let my fingers slide from his hair. I wanna hug him hard and kiss his face and just get the fuck out of here, and not care what happens. But it matters what happens. For all sorts of reasons, not the least of which is Brian’s pride and confidence and my own sense of self-satisfaction, of knowing that I helped, just a little bit, to derail this campaign.

“Get your asses over here!” she screeches again, and I know damn well she’s going to keep it up until we go over and see her.

Brian slides off the stool and grabs his glass off the bar. “We’d better go,” he says, a grin finally crossing his face.

We wander over and check out the polls... so far it’s in Stockwell’s favour, but they haven’t counted all the votes yet, and our district is the last to come in. So if Deekins wins, we’ll know it was the queer vote that pushed him over the edge. There’s gotta be some poetic irony in that.

Brian pulls up a stool and I stand behind him, running my fingers up and down his back. He leans back into my touch, resting lightly against my chest, his hair prickling against my cheek.

So we sit and wait and watch numbers rise and fall and make idle small talk. Soon it becomes clear that Deekins has a chance, a real chance of winning this, and I get mesmerized by the screen, seeing his numbers creep higher and higher and higher.

I hold my breath and cross my fingers. And wait.

BRIAN’S POV

I feel fucking nervous, like... like... fuck, I don’t even know *what* this is like. I’m rarely nervous or anxious about anything. Seriously. But this? Fuck. My stomach is in knots and my palms sweaty and I stare down into my empty glass. Don’t wanna get hammered or even buzzed. Want to be clear and cognizant and aware of every fucking thing.

But, I’m still thirsty. I cut through the crowd and make my way to the bar to order another drink, but then the bar gets really quiet all of a sudden and there’s this pause. And then...

“Marvin Deekins,” the words ring out, and Deb’s screaming and Lindsay’s laughing and this huge cheer erupts through the crowd and I collapse on the bar and laugh and laugh, relief soaring through me, a thousand pounds lighter, and I fucking feel great, so good, so fucking good.

I quickly turn back to Justin and he’s right behind me and we fall into each other’s arms, kissing for victory and hugging for accomplishment. Hold on to him tightly, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in the crook of his neck, so happy I could fucking cry. I barely hear him whispering in my ear...

Rage saved the day...

And it makes me laugh in that crazy half-cry way and I don’t let go of him. Don’t let go.

Won’t let go again. Ever.

We grab our jackets and I get a bottle of champagne from the bar and we pop it open, laughing and sip from it, letting the fuzz run down our chins. Everyone pours outside and we follow the crowd into the streets, standing at the top of the steps, seeing everything, the people, the celebration... and then my eyes land on Justin. I look at him and I see him, fucking see him. Really, really see him.

Mouth open in a smile, eyes dancing around at the happiness, the joy, the pride and accomplishment and victory.

And I can’t look away.

He glances at me, and smiles wider, jokes with me...

And everything is worth it.

It’s all worth it.

I did it.

I did this.

And it was all worth it.

Wouldn’t change a thing. Not a goddamn thing.

The music blares through the streets and I know it’s only a matter of time before the cops come to break it up. But until then I wanna fucking enjoy this moment.

Then Mikey and Hunter are here and Mikey’s telling me he’s running away and instead of telling him that it’s about the worst fucking idea he’s ever had, I give him my car keys and tell him to run. Tell him to do what his heart says.

Because I did what my heart told me to do, and goddamn, look at this.

We watch them go and Justin turns to me, shaking his head and telling me that I pretty much just gave away the last fucking thing I own, but I can't think about that, can't think in terms of money and worth and value right now. Can't comprehend what I've done and what I'm doing right now. I just mumble off some words that are meaningless, about how I just gave away everything...

But Justin gives me this sideways look and crooked grin, and reminds me that I didn’t lose everything. Reminds me that three months ago, I lost something much more important, more meaningful, more valuable, more irreplaceable than a car or a chair or fucking money.

I lost him.

And he’s back here now. And I haven’t lost him. In fact I’ve got him. Got him hard.

I kiss him hard on the lips and let him know that he's right. So fucking right. I have *everything*.

There’s nothing but a future ahead. Don’t know what it’ll bring, don’t know where we’ll go, what we’ll do. Anything. Could be fucking anything.

Don’t need to define myself with boundaries anymore, because they’ve all been torn down. The rules are broken, the lines are crossed, the walls have crumbled, whatever fucking analogy you wanna use for what’s going on.

It’s happening to me. Right now.

Our kiss breaks and we stare at the people around us, I wrap my arm around him and he looks at me with this joy in his eyes, the unexpected happiness that came out of this.

And there’s this pause between us, our eyes clinging together, my lips part just a little and it suddenly seems so fucking perfect, seems so fucking right. I suck in a breath and he just looks at me... I watch his face change from the ecstatic joy to... to...

Understanding. Awareness. Acknowledgement. Acceptance. He just keeps looking at me, and I keep looking at him and we’re the only fucking people in the world.

He is everything. All I have. All I want.

All I ever fucking need.

And this second that feels like it’s stretched beyond time, beyond existence, beyond everything and nothing and seems like forever and like we’re on some other plane of reality that only exists for us...

It ends...

And he wraps his fingers up into my hair and pulls our faces together for a kiss, softly, lips brushing together, his cold nose pressing into my cheek, his eyelashes fluttering against mine, and...

He knows.

I don’t have to say anything. Don’t have to speak a single word.

He knows.

And I know.

And that’s it.

Fuck. I feel amazing.

The music plays and people brush by us... his hand creeps up under my jacket, his palm warm on my skin and my fingers curl up into his soft hair...

And I lose all definition.

I just am.

THE END