Justin’s heart beats hard in his chest, his breath catches in his throat, his stomach curls up on itself and he knows he’s crazy for getting so worked up, but he can’t help it. His fingers twist over one another and he glances at the monitor stuck to the ceiling with the tiny type announcing Arrivals scrolling across it, then pushes himself up on his toes, trying to see over the heads of everyone else, trying to see past and see…

He should be here, any minute, any second, and Justin’s face busts open wide in a grin just anticipating him. He tries to bite his lip to keep it back, but he knows he can’t. Just can’t.

He scans the faces coming out the double doors, looking, watching, waiting, and his heart thumps harder, faster, and when he finally gets a glimpse of dark brown hair and hazel eyes, his heart just fucking stops.

Brian.

Justin pushes through the waiting crowd, ignoring protests from kids and grandmothers, because Brian’s here, Brian is here in California and it’s been 86 days and four hours since Justin’s last seen him, and right now, there isn’t one other person on the planet that’s more important than Brian, as far as Justin is concerned.

Brian sees him right away, Justin’s grin and flushed cheeks, and doesn’t see anything else, just a flash of golden skin and too blond hair and a blinding smile, then Justin’s in his arms again, every inch of their bodies pressed together, and there’s nothing that Brian can do but hold on. Hold Justin in his arms so tight that he doesn’t think he’ll ever let go.

The warm cotton of Justin’s shirt brushes against his chin, soft hair pressed to his cheek, the smell of California all over him, but underneath it all is the familiar scent that Brian’s kept in his sense memory these few months. He could get drunk on this smell, almost cum from it, bury his face in it and cover himself with it, feel it all over and take it all in. It’s just Justin, there’s no way to describe it, just sweet and musky and wonderful and permanently embedded in Brian’s pillows.

Brian can’t help it, needs to feel skin on skin, and pushes his hand up the back of Justin’s shirt, pressing his palm against the warmth of Justin’s back, holding their bodies together hard. The warm California air swirling around them, the sun shining brighter here than it ever seems to in Pittsburgh and everything is so different, but this, this in his arms, is the same. Brian breathes a deep sigh of relief and weaves his fingers up into Justin’s soft hair.

The tickle of Brian’s fingertips sliding up against his scalp makes Justin suck in a breath – it’s so familiar and he’d been wanting it, that soft touch, that intimacy, that little thing he likes so much. He squeezes his arms around Brian’s neck harder, the press of clothes against their skin seemingly cruel and unnecessary when all they want, all they need is to touch each other again, one on one and naked to the world, to everyone. And in lots of ways they are naked… strung out on devotion and lust so heavy between them. Anyone looking at them would be a fool not to realize they were lovers.

Justin stands on his tip toes, reaching higher, just to get more, feel more and he’s spinning and feeling elated that he’s here, here with Brian and then his eyes and face feel so hot, and he suddenly gasps out a breath that he turns into a laugh, a silly laugh that he buries with his face in the soft hairs on Brian’s neck.

He’s happier than he imagined.

He missed Brian more than he knew, and standing here in his arms again, he knows, really knows that he missed him more than he can almost stand.

Too soon, Brian’s grip relaxes, and Justin falls back onto his heels and they pull apart a little, the clinging desperation nearly passed for now… Brian’s palms press against Justin’s cheeks and he tips their heads together for a kiss… the first in three months, the first in a weekend of kisses.

The world is lost for a moment, just a dance of tongues between them, soft brushing of lips that makes Justin’s heart beat hard again, flushes his cheeks again, stiffens his cock in his jeans and Justin knows that everything’s right now. All the frustration and worry and aching longing he’s been suffering washes away with every touch of their lips. Everything’s okay now.

Lips part reluctantly, to get them out of the airport, into Justin’s leased car and back to Justin’s rented apartment… it’s a small place, furnished with things that Justin cares nothing about, and only serve to remind him he’s not home. That this isn’t home.

But when Brian comes in, suddenly it is.

There are few words between them, they’ve talked more in the last months than they ever have, and so they give each other what they’ve missed, smiles and kisses and touches, and quickly Brian’s bag is dropped and forgotten in the middle of the room.

The door shuts behind them and Brian wastes no time, grabbing Justin by the wrist, pulling him to his chest, pressing bodies together again, and this time, there’s no restraint, no hesitation, no holding back because people are watching. There’s only a hard kiss that lasts forever, lips and tongues and teeth meeting again, breaths coming harder and faster till Justin pulls Brian with him into the bedroom and they collapse on the small bed, legs tangled as they scramble to pull off shirts and shoes and pants…

There are more kisses, then a fast, hard fuck… desperate, furious, frantic. Justin’s ankles tight around Brian’s neck as he’s rocked back and forth, back and forth, Brian sliding into Justin over and over, feeling like he’s come home again, like he’s found what he lost, what he’s missed. To Justin, it’s like the world has begun again, like everything is beautiful again, like everything truly is right again. Like he’s complete.

And when they’ve cum together, and panted and gasped and told each other the things that can only be told with moans and touches and kisses, Brian slides out of Justin and lies between his legs and holds Justin’s face between his palms.

The sun filters in the sheer curtains and Brian stares at Justin, smiling a little, letting his eyes flick across his face, taking it in, taking it all in, what’s new, what’s the same…

He traces his thumbs across the arch of Justin’s cheekbones, and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “You’ve got freckles,” Brian smiles, and keeps brushing the soft pads of his thumbs along Justin’s skin.

Justin laughs a little. “Yeah… I keep forgetting that the sun shines every day here. Gotta start wearing sunscreen.”

Brian’s tongue slides across the bridge of Justin’s nose, and he takes in the taste of Justin’s sun-kissed skin.

“Your hair’s long again,” Brian says, threading his fingers in the long locks, twisting soft blond strands through his knuckles.

Justin smiles and stares back at Brian, and is relieved that Brian looks good, amazing, as beautiful as ever. Healthy. He memorizes him, the way he looks right this second, his artist’s eye taking in everything, and imagines a drawing in his head, a sketch he’ll do late one night when he’s just got home from work. He’ll work on it all night, jack off to it when he’s done, and fall asleep with Brian’s face on his mind, looking him, just like he’s looking at him right now, flushed from sex and eyes smiling.

Brian’s fingers slowly close around Justin’s cock, stroking him softly, and Justin lets his eyes slip shut and relaxes and revels in the feeling of Brian’s skin against his. He tries to remember everything about the way that Brian feels in this bed, this temporary place that Justin sleeps, so when Justin closes his eyes at night, he can imagine Brian beside him, leg draped over his, hair stuck to the sweat soaked pillow, sheet clinging to his damp skin.

Justin doesn’t care that he’s pretty sure he won’t see the outside world for the two days that Brian’s here… doesn’t care that this weekend will be all about sex because if there’s anything Justin’s learned these last three months, it’s that it’s *not* just about sex anymore. He once thought it was, once was convinced that it was, but being apart this long has proved to him it’s not.

Proved to him that he and Brian are about more than just kisses and fucks… that he and Brian are about long phone calls and emails and MSNs in the middle of the day. That he and Brian have things to talk about and share and that talking and sharing and closing your eyes lying in bed with the phone pressed tight to your ear is as much if not more so than kisses and fucks.

Justin knows that he and Brian have more than that now, and maybe him leaving like this, leaving to find himself and do this for himself is what it took for him to realize that.

Brian always knew this of course, knew that when Justin would storm off in a huff, he’d be back, knew that when Justin ran off with the violin player, he’d be back, knew that when Justin got on that plane to head off for six months to California…

That he’d be back.

But this is just a little intermission.

So Justin closes his eyes and they start a slow fuck, and Brian keeps his eyes open and takes all of Justin in, this new Justin, this changed Justin, but when Justin cums and moans in his throat, a whimper escaping his lips, Brian knows that Justin hasn’t really changed at all.

Justin holds Brian tightly to his chest, and feels Brian’s mouth plant kisses on him everywhere, and takes Brian’s cock in his mouth and all they do for two days is kiss and fuck, because they won’t have that again for another 94 days.

Instead they’ll have calls late at night and text messages at work and packages sent in the mail. They’ll have long erotic emails and will play around in online chat rooms like it was the backroom and they’ll remember everything about what it is they miss and everything about what it is they have.

And because Justin knows all this, he can survive another three months here, in California, doing something he’s figured out he doesn’t really like, living in a place that he’s figured out he doesn’t like either.

Once he’s done here, then he’ll go home and then he’ll *be* home.

But for the few hours and days that Brian’s here, this place will be Justin’s home for now.