Cut from "Reciprocity" (404 Gapfiller)

Author's note: I think I cut this stuff because it was just way too introspective for the fic, and it was long enough already!

Brian's POV

I mean... since when is Justin coming home with bruised knuckles and scrapes down his back?

Since when is Justin saying no to me and yes to wandering around the streets with this fucking pink posse?

I was getting used to this. Used to having him here, used to being with him. Used to calling him a partner and not getting all weirded out by it. Used to fucking him in our bed and lying on him and getting stoned and watching movies and sharing beers and eating dinner out of take-out boxes on the fucking floor.

I was getting used to being the person I think he always wanted me to be. I was getting used to liking being that person.

And then he goes and changes on me.

Almost reminds me of the kid that asked me to his prom. The kid that stole my credit card. The kid that fucking seduced *me* on more than one occasion. That kid.

Reminds me of him and someone completely different all at the same time.

What left with his hair?

I laugh at myself and stare at his nearly shaven head. Scalp sticking through and the blond all gone.

Gone.

It *is* hot.

But... I miss the hair.

Fucking *hell*. I miss the hair. Not just the hair. Miss that Justin. Staring up at me through blond bangs.

Now he looks a little like that kid again, the one I woke up to find sleeping in my bed. But there's no batting of eyelashes now. And there's this faint scar and a hard look in the eyes that wasn't there before.

Fuck.

I want Justin back.

But that's stupid. Because he's right here.

Right fucking here.

Justin's POV

Learning to fight has made me strong.

Being strong has made me more confident.

Becoming more confident has made me cockier.

Being cockier has made me say things I normally wouldn't.

Saying things I normally wouldn't has provoked people to react to me in different ways.

People reacting to me in different ways has spawned some anger.

Anger has made me want to fight.

Fighting makes me strong.

And the circle continues.

I know I'm the same person.

Of course I'm the same person. But it makes me feel strong and confident and cocky and say things that I normally wouldn't say and try to make people react to me.

And fight.

Cut from the middle of "Holding Your Breath" (407 gapfiller)

Author's Note: I really wanted to keep this in, but I don't think it really added anything to the story. And I couldn't finish it up - there's a big gap in the middle of it that you'll see. I think in the finished fic I just replaced this whole scene with a line or two.

Justin's POV

Daphne gets home and I'm still in the same damn spot I was when I got home two hours ago. I can't fucking move. I can't, just can't.

She comes in, and I hear her in the kitchen, rustling around. The distinctive sound of a bottle opener. A loud sigh. Another bottle.

Then she's standing in front of me.

"I swear to God, you're worst than my last roommate," she says, holding out a beer.

I wrap my fingers around the cold bottle and look up at her. "Hunh?"

She laughs her silly little girl laugh and plops down on the couch beside me. "So," she puts her hand on my arm and grins at me like it's a big joke. "What'd he do this time."

I shake my head. I know she's trying to be funny... but...

"He... didn't do anything, Daph," I say it quietly. "Not really."

"Shit, Justin," her eyes get really big and round. "You're fucking serious."

I suck back on the beer. "No I'm not... I mean... I..." I put the bottle down on the table and press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets.

"Jesus, I'm sorry!" she twists around on the couch and wraps her arms around me tightly. I let myself fall into her arms, her hair tickling my face and the smell of J. Lo's latest scent overpowering my nose.

"It's okay. It's nothing, I'm being stupid," I hold onto her, and she pulls back, letting my head fall into her lap. I curl up my feet on the couch.

Her fingers pull at the short tufts of my hair and it makes me think of Brian and I like it and wish she would stop.

"Something is totally going on and he won't talk to me about it," I say, realizing how stupid that sounds and hearing Brian's voice shouting into my head again. We're not fucking married!

We're not married, but we're partners. I tell him everything.

But I guess that's the difference between him and me.

Maybe he's just upset about Vic? Maybe he's just working too fucking hard? Maybe it's everything, all the stress of everything rolling up and making his dick soft?

Maybe he really *does* have crabs.

And maybe he's just being Brian. As confusing as ever.

Maybe I'm just worrying about this too much.

(**********missing something here***********)

I open the door, creep down the hall to Daph's room, and knock quietly.

"Daph?" I push open the door slowly.

She moans a little, then rolls onto her back. "Justin?"

I take a couple steps in. "My bed's too empty."

She nods and pulls open the covers. "C'mon."

I climb in beside her and wrap my body around her small frame. She takes my hand in hers and holds it to her stomach.

We slept like this for a week after I broke up with Ethan and two weeks after she broke up with Dean.

"Thanks," I whisper into her hair.

"Mmhmm," she mumbles and pushes back into me. Love the feeling of a body close to mine. That's all I need right now.

Cut from the end of "Broken" (408 gapfiller)

Author's Note: I liked the idea of this, but it's just too... I don't know, *depressing*. And it didn't fit into the story. I wanted to get the sense that both Brian and Justin knew what death and dying could feel like. Yeah, I know. :( That's why I took it out!!

POV not defined

I dreamt about him last night. We were both there. Everyone was wearing white and it smelled like lemons. There was a beach, and waves crashed up onto the sand, gliding up towards us, nibbling at our toes. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was there, his fingers twined up in mine, his skin warm from the sun. I felt good and happy at first, relaxed and content. The sun beat down on my skin and it was that perfect temperature, like when you first come outdoors from being somewhere too cool. Warmth wrapping around me, washing over my body and everything, everywhere too blue. Just the tickle of the water on my feet and his thumb rubbing across the back of my palm.

And then everything came crashing down.

Because I realized we were both dead.

He didn't know it, and I couldn't tell him, but horror ripped through me. The warmth vanished and suddenly it was cold, so cold. His thumb stopped moving and the water turned icy and I couldn't move, could only feel tears running down my cheeks. I didn't want him to die. I was so sad that he had died. I gripped his fingers in mine and he screamed.

And then I woke up.

Cut from "What We Have" (410 gapfiller)

Author's Note: I guess with this fic, I started to write more, then just figured I'd quit while I was ahead on that one :) I might steal this later on and write the rest.

Brian's POV

I straddle him, my dick flopping against his belly. His hole is sore, and Christ, my dick is even a little sore. But I feel too good to stop now. I have a few more eternities in hell to earn tonight.

Lean over him and push my hand down between the headboard and the mattress, knowing exactly what I'm looking for. Feel the smooth leather in my fingers and drag the cuffs up between the tight space, and lay them on either side of his head.

He looks from one to the other, smiles slightly and puts his hands on my thighs, watching me. Waiting, I know.

I pick up one of his wrists and hold it above his head, strapping the padded leather around his skin. He lets his mouth fall open, sucks in a noisy breath, and closes his eyes. Runs his tongue across his lips. Starts panting a little.

Take his other wrist and bring it to my mouth, kissing his fingers, and he cups his palm around my face before I pull his hand away and strap the second leather cuff around his wrist, binding him to the bed.

Unfinished 413 gapfiller

Author's Note: I really wanted to write this, and started going strong with it then just completely lost steam. I remember having some idea about where this story was going to go, but damn if I can remember now!! lol! So it just kinda hangs there unfortunately. Maybe one day I'll remember whatever point it was that I wanted to get across and finish it.

Justin's POV

"Thanks for the ride," I lean over to give him another kiss. My one goodbye kiss has turned into three so far.

"It was selfish. I wanted to make sure you got on the fucking plane," he pulls me to him again, hand wrapping up against the back of my neck, fingers warm against my skin.

I try to remember every taste and every sensation. The way his lips feel, his tongue against mine, the way he smells, the feeling of his breath on my skin... I won't have this for five days. Five whole days.

We pull apart and he presses his forehead against mine. "You'll miss the plane," he breathes a little hard, and his fingers don't leave my neck.

"I almost don't care," I press my lips to his again, but he pulls me back.

He looks at me, hard, in that way he does. "I do."

I nod a little and his fingers slowly slide from around my neck. I grab my bag from between my legs and give him a smile and put my hand on the door. Wait a split second, then open it up.

Everything's gonna be okay.

"Have a good flight," he says, and I turn around and he's leaning over in the car, yelling at me through the window. I give him a little wave.

"You too."

And I turn around and go into the airport.

(********something else would've happened here********)

"You should've seen it. You would've *totally* loved it. The guys, fuck, were amazing, and I saw that guy from the new Tom Cruise movie, and you won't believe who's out..."

"Did you fuck anyone famous?" his voice comes through the wire and I stop talking.

"No. Had a couple chances though," I flop down on the bed and let my feet hang over the side.

"Really? And you said no?" he tries to laugh a little, then stops.

"None of them are nearly as hot as you," I say it quietly and sigh. "I wish you were here. Or I wish I was there. Either one."

"It's only a couple of nights. Then I'll see you back home in Pittsburgh," I can hear him grunt as he rolls over in bed.

"What's Toronto like?" I kick off my shoes and start to pull off my pants.

"Okay. Like Pittsburgh, I guess. And get this... Mikey and Ben got engaged. They're getting married tomorrow," he chuckles a little.

"You're fucking kidding me. Married?" I drop my shoes and let my mouth hang open.

"Yeah, married. It's legal here, you know."

"Yeah, I know. That's awesome! I mean... that's great for them. I wish I could be there and see it," I sit back down on the bed and slide under the covers.

"Yeah, I'm the best man. I've never been the best man at a wedding before. Not for anyone," he sounds a little wistful.

"Well, give them a hug for me. And tell them I'm sorry I missed it," I switch off the light.

"Yeah, I will," I hear a click on the other end, and I imagine his light going off as well.

"You in bed?" I drop my voice lower.

"Yeah," he breathes a little heavier. "You?"

"Yeah."

"Mmmmm."

"Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful tomorrow, okay? I know you'll do well, but don't over do it. I want the most fabulous fuck when I see you on Tuesday."

"You'll get it, don't worry. And don't take any crap from them. Don't let them change a fuckin' thing."

"I won't."

"Okay."

"Well..."

"Good luck tomorrow."

"Yeah... you too..."

"Okay."

"Night then."

"Yeah... night."

"Miss you."

"You too."

"Okay."

"Later."

And the phone goes dead. I don't pray, but I swear I'll start if it'll make sure someone's watching over Brian tomorrow. I know he'll be fine. I know everything'll be fine. But when the lights go out, and I'm all alone in some weird bed, a little wired from too many martinis and maybe a bit of coke, from seeing all these movie stars and getting a glimpse of a life "less ordinary"... it makes me miss him. It makes me want him. It makes me wish I brought the fucking dildo.

I roll over onto my side and bunch the pillow up under my head. Close my eyes. Imagine Brian's little breaths, Brian's warm body beside me. Imagine a sky filled with stars and cool air. Imagine the smell of pine needles and that tent smell and a warm down filled sleeping bag sliding over my shoulder. Imagine his arm around me. Imagine all of that and drift to sleep.

The next morning comes so fast, but my eyes pop open at 6:00. Jetlag. I try to force them closed, but I keep thinking about this meeting this afternoon. At a real, actual movie studio. With a real, actual movie producer. Lunch at some trendy café. A meeting later on with Connor. Hanging out with Brett.

I grin and laugh a little and slip out of bed. I don't want to miss one second of this day.

There's this amazing sundeck off the guesthouse, so I go through the French doors and stand out on the concrete and watch the sun come up. It's spring and already so warm. It's fucking freezing at home, and here's like standing in front of a heater.

Brett's house is amazing. I can't believe he even said that one day I could have something like this. I never even dreamed of having my own place. The most I ever aspired to was living in the loft. Luxury enough for me.

Christ, I wish Brian could see this place. He'd love it.

Brian.

I go back inside and pick up my cell phone. It's just after 9:00 in Toronto. I think the ride started at 10:00... but he said Michael and Ben were getting married, so I guess they're doing that. I'm happy for them, I really am. Michael's been an ass to me in the past, but he's not all that bad. And it's fucking awesome that they can get legally married. I've never even really thought about it... well, that one time at Mel and Lind's wedding... yeah, I thought about it. But not seriously.

I stare at my cell phone. I can't call him. He'll think I'm ridiculous if I call him.

I take a long, long shower, jack off slowly, fingering myself and making it last. Think about Brian and getting fucked and when I cum it's like this great relief, and I feel ready.

Confident.

Dry off and wander around the room, looking at the scripts and autographed photos on the wall. Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, ah, fuck. Tobey Maguire. I stare at his photo and promise to see the new Spiderman movie when it comes out in the summer.

The phone rings and I hesitantly pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Justin," Brett's voice comes through the line. I'll admit I was half expecting Brian.

"Hey..." I laugh a little. Isn't this guy like in the house next to me?

"You ready for this today?" he asks.

"You bet," I stand up and drop the script, start fishing in my bag for underwear.

"Good. Power breakfast at 9:00. Come over when you're dressed," he says, then hangs up.

I'm ready. I'm fucking ready.