Brush Off

Justin and Brian had been invited over to Brian's mother's apartment to dinner. Now they were back in the loft, in front of the fireplace, watching the flickering flames and reliving the experience.

"I really enjoyed myself, Brian," Justin volunteered, "Your mother is a nice lady and she's a great cook."

"She was always a great cook," Brian told him, "But she was not always such a nice lady. You did that, my little miracle worker. I could have killed you though when she brought out the dessert, and you had that silly look on your face. I was afraid I was going to burst out laughing and she would have remembered for sure."

"That wasn't a silly look, Bri," Justin replied, "I thought I was going to choke to keep myself from laughing and then you had that really odd look on your face which always makes me laugh. And then when she said 'It's your favorite, double chocolate cake,' I thought I was dead, but we both did all right. I don't think she noticed."

"And I'm sure she didn't remember," Brian said, "But that was good. That wasn't the very best of days - the day she showed up at the loft with that cake."

"It was the day I first met your mother," Justin laughed.

"And it was certainly not love at first sight on her part, at least," Brian laughed back.

"As I remember it, she was a lot madder at you than she was at me. "Maybe she'll bring the rest of the cake over tonight," Justin suggested.

"Well she ought to know what to expect if she does?" Brian told him.

"Like what?" Justin wondered.

"Wait and see. It'll be worse than last time, though," Brian told him.

"OK," Justin answered, "That's something to look forward to."

"But you're lucky I'm even talking to you, Little Twat," Brian went on.

"What do you think I did now?" Justin questioned.

"When my mother said she was going to get the kitchen painted, you told her that we would be glad to do it for her. Why 'we?' You probably have had a course in kitchen painting at the Institute," Brian complained, "I don't paint."

"Well, I didn't know that then," Justin defended himself, "But I guess I know it now. When she told me you painted her kitchen once for her when you were eighteen, and then they had to call the painter in to paint over your work, I thought maybe you weren't very good at it. But you're so good at everything, Brian, I just assumed you'd be a good painter too."

"It's not something I've taken the time to learn," Brian pointed out.

"Well, I can do it myself in just a few hours," Justin said. "If you want to come along, you can mix the paint or maybe just hold the cans for me."

"That sounds like real skilled labor to me," Brian groused.

"Brian Honey," Justin responded, "It's you that 's saying you can't paint. You have lots of skills. It's OK that painting isn't one of them."

"Well, I wish she hadn't invited Clare. She remembered when I painted the kitchen and she was laughing at me," Brian remembered, "Why did she have to invite Clare?"

"Clare is her daughter, Brian," Justin reminded him, "Just like you are her son. She wishes you two would get along better."

"We get along fine," Brian pointed out, "When we're not together. Thanks to you Clare and I are civil to each other but you're doomed to failure if you try to get me and Clare to really like each other. Just like you're doomed to failure if you think you're going to make a painter out of me. So cut out the meddling."

"I am not a meddler Brian," Justin defended itself, "I take an interest in other people and I try to help where I can, but I am not a meddler."

"Semantics, Sweetie," Brian smiled at Justin. He loved everything about the little twink, including the meddling, but Justin really did not need to know that.

"Brian, I didn't think I was going to tell you this," Justin said to Brian, "But you remember when that nosy Mrs. Flynn from next door to your mother stopped by supposedly to borrow something? You were arguing with Clare about whatever and I was helping your mother get the dishes into the dishwasher."

"Yeah," Brian said, "I was just telling Clare what she was doing wrong with her kids."

"I hope you weren't meddling Brian," Justin sniped, "But anyway, your mother told Mrs. Flynn that she was going to get the kitchen painted and that her son-in-law was going to do it for her. Mrs. Flynn said 'Joannie, I didn't know Clare was married again,' and your mother said that she wasn't, that I was the son-in-law who was going to do the job."

"Oh that is funny," Brian laughed, "What did old lady Flynn say to that?"

"Nothing," Justin replied, "But she got herself out of there pretty fast."

"You are a marvel, Honey," Brian told Justin, "I don't think even Rage could get rid of old lady Flynn that fast. She's almost always good for an hour at least when she drops in. You did good, Sonny Boy."

Brian and Justin had other matters to discuss and the subject of the dinner and the painting was dropped, at least for a while.

Brian was so very comfortable sitting there and so was Justin. Justin cuddled closer to Brian as they talked, and Brian felt himself getting embarrassingly mushy. True to form, Justin saved the day.

"You know what, Bri," he said, "Ethan is a good painter. He can come over with me when I paint your mother's kitchen. You won't have to come at all if you don't want to. It will be done in just an hour or two with two good painters working."

"You know what, Baby," Brian responded, "I was just kidding you. I have become a better painter since I messed up the kitchen back then, and I can help you, but just in case I need more practice, I'm going to go to one of those Home Depot workshops on painting. I want us to do things together and painting the kitchen will be a lot of fun, I'm sure."

Justin smiled at Brian. "You know what, Sweetheart,' Justin said, " I was just kidding too. I didn't want you to have to suffer through the painting session. Ethan can't paint worth a damn. I'm sure he'd be worse than you."

Justin tried to leap out of Brian's arms to get away but Brian, for all his years, was too fast for him. Justin was caught but he didn't seem too upset about it at all. Actually, he put his arms around Brian's neck and kissed him.

It was a good thing Joan Kinney did not bring any double chocolate cake to the loft that night.

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