JUSTIN’S POV

He tosses the trick’s shoes out into the hallway, knowing the guy will quickly follow suit.

“You’re an asshole,” he growls at Brian, shooting me a look as he passes.

“I aim to please,” Brian snarks, sliding the door shut behind the trick as he stumbles out, still trying to button up his jeans.

The silence in the loft is sudden and I stare at Brian’s back until he turns around and looks at me.

“You’re back,” he says, and he can’t hide the smile, it’s crept up to his eyes, filling out the places that I imagine were dark before.

I grin and feel my face flush, and it’s crazy, I don’t know why, but God, I can’t help it. I really, really, missed him. His hair is all crazy messed up and sweat shines on his chest and the jeans he hastily pulled on hang open at the front and he looks more fucking beautiful than I remembered.

I lean against the bar in the kitchen and shrug my shoulders, laughing under my breath. “Yeah. LA was boring.”

“Oh really,” he drags out the last word, a sarcastic move to say he doesn’t believe me one bit. “Fucking movie stars and living in the posh guest house of a director is boring. Right.”

He takes a couple steps towards me, and I take a couple towards him till we meet in the middle.

“Terribly boring,” I say, not able to stop grinning at him and bite my bottom lip to stop. It’s hard to stop though, standing so close to him again, seeing his smile, taking him in and standing in this place, this loft, this home... it’s everything I remembered it. Even more.

He laughs a little, then his face softens and he puts his hands around my waist, warm, strong. “When did you get in?”

“About an hour ago,” I say, and feel his fingers flexing on my waist.

“You should’ve called me. I would’ve been there to pick you up,” his hands slide up my chest, my throat, then cup my jaw, his thumbs smoothing across my cheeks. He presses his forehead to mine, and the feeling is so familiar, so comfortable, so Brian, that I start to grin again. I missed this more than I realized, and the relief at being home crashes over me again and again.

“I wanted to surprise you,” I tilt my face up a little, bringing our mouths closer, so near that I can feel his breath on my lips, that I can feel the warmth of his skin on mine. God, I want to kiss him. I haven’t kissed anyone since I left, not kissed kissed anyone, like the way I kiss Brian.

“You did,” he says it so softly, quietly and I see his eyes slip shut and I let mine flutter closed too. “I like these kinds of surprises.”

I reach my arms around him, and pull him to me... our bodies so close, touching everywhere, this embrace that I’ve ached for, to feel him pressed against me like this... my breath catches in my throat, and our mouths draw closer and then...

We kiss...

A brush of lips together, tentative and tender, and it’s the first time in months, and it seems like years, it’s like every first kiss we’ve ever had, every time I’ve come home to him again.

We share a breath, and his hand slides to the back of my neck and the other to my waist, pulling me to him, hard against his body. I slide my tongue into his open mouth and he covers my lips with his own and we kiss, we kiss... we know this dance well, the give and take and it’s not rushed or desperate, just familiar and passionate and Jesus Christ, I missed this, missed him, and I lose myself in it, in him, in our kisses, in being in his arms again, in being here, home.

It almost gets too much, too overwhelming, and I pull away for a moment to catch my breath, pressing my face to his, my lips raw and swollen and wet.

“I fucking missed you,” I whisper breathlessly into his ear, combing my fingers up into his hair, licking at his skin.

“Hmmm... me too,” he says softly, and starts to kiss me again.

My stomach picks this most inopportune time to start growling. And *loud*.

“Hungry?” He laughs as my stomach gurgles again.

“Actually, I’m fucking starved,” I moan, wishing I’d grabbed something at the airport before getting in the cab. But I was too anxious to get here to care.

“Call for take-out. Get whatever you want,” he kisses me on the forehead. “I’ll just eat you tonight,” he says, sliding his hand down my ass, cupping my bum and making me close my eyes again.

“Mmmhhmmm...” I debate forgetting the food then my stomach growls again and Brian smacks my ass.

“Call. Now,” he reaches for the phone and pushes it into my hand. I laugh and hit the speed dial number for our favourite Thai place, quickly ordering a couple dishes while Brian heads into the bedroom.

He comes back when I’m off the phone, pulling a t-shirt over his head. I kick off my shoes and throw my jacket over one of the stools, looking around the loft to see if anything’s changed.

“I like what you did with the-” I start, pointing to the new light over the bed.

“Justin,” he says, his voice serious. I turn around and look at him, his arms crossed over his chest. “So why are you really here?”

“The movie got cancelled,” I say it quickly and quietly, then rub my hands over my face. “It’s done. Over. They pulled the plug.”

“Fuck,” he says, and pulls me into his arms again. I wrap my arms around him tightly and press my face against his shoulder, breathing in the washed cotton smell of his t-shirt.

“Yeah...” I don’t know what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pushing his fingers up into my hair, scratching lightly at the base of my scalp. “I know you wanted...”

“It doesn’t matter, Brian. It’s over and... I don’t wanna talk about it right now, honestly,” I lean back and kiss him again, pressing my lips to his so he won’t say anything further. I feel like shit about the whole situation and I really don’t know how to deal with it.

When Brett broke the news to us, I felt like I was taking it harder than anyone else. Fuck, I *knew* I was. It was like a blow to the stomach, hard and sharp and I felt like I was gonna puke.

But Connor just walked away, and Brett just walked away, and everyone else, all the people that I’d come to meet and like and respect at the studio... they all just walked away too. Left Rage and went onto the next project.

The only thing was... I didn’t have a next project. With no experience, no education... I was nothing in LA. I went from being indispensable to just one of the crowd in a moment no faster than a heartbeat. And when I ran into Connor at that club and I was spouting off all Brett’s bullshit about shopping the movie around and believing in the concept and... well, it was just the way he looked at me. I mean, I know he was trying not to be an asshole, but he made me feel like just some stupid kid from Pittsburgh. And maybe that’s all I am.

So I came home.

And while I love home, I love that Brian’s here and my family’s here and my friends are here... I wasn’t quite done with LA yet. I don’t know how to explain it, I just... I just wanted a little more time I guess.

But I didn’t have any more time. It’s over.

Brian strokes the back of my head and doesn’t say anything else, and we stand there in each other’s arms till the buzzer sounds and the food is here.

We set up on the floor and Brian opens us a couple beers and eats no more than two shrimp that I practically have to force feed him and we talk about Michael and Ben and Mel and Linds and Gus and the baby and Deb and Carl and Em and Ted and before I know it, my head is in his lap and he’s running his fingers through my hair and even though it’s not all that late, I’m just so exhausted from everything, and just so happy to be home, to be with him, to have him here, stroking my hair that...

I fall asleep.

* * * * *

BRIAN’S POV

His eyes stay shut longer with every blink until they’re just closed, his breathing deepens, and his mouth falls open and I know he’s asleep.

I sigh. And smile. And keep running my fingers through his soft, short hair. He’s here. I thought he was gone forever, and now he’s here, curled up on the floor, his head in my lap.

Of all the ways I thought it would be when I first saw him again, I definitely imagined there’d be fucking involved. A lot of fucking. But then I guess we have time for that now. Time for everything.

Minutes tick by, and it turns into an hour, and my leg gets stiff and I really don’t want to wake him up, but then I know I have to. I carefully pull myself out from under him, then gather him up in my arms and carry him off to bed, ignoring the twinge in my collarbone. I lay him down and pull off his jeans and he starts to wake up a little, helping me push off his pants, and reaching for the duvet.

I strip and climb into bed beside him, and I feel more comfortable here than I have in months. And when he reaches out to me, curling his body up against mine, burrowing his head in my shoulder, it feels like he never left.