Message in a Bottle

Chapter 12

POV JUSTIN

"I like your friends, Brian." I don't mention my discomfort about Michael's attitude; he is, after all, Brian's best friend.

"They’re alright," he mumbles, then winces.

I jump up and get his meds. Lindsay quickly lifts Gus from his father's arms. "Take," I say simply, handing Brian the pills with a bottle of water. He eyes me like he resents being told what to do, but his pain overwhelms his sense of indignation and he takes the pills and water. "So, anyway," I continue quickly, "your son's adorable; he's so fucking beautiful! Just like his father!" And totally honestly: fuck me if Gus isn't the most gorgeous baby I have ever seen… and he does strongly resemble his even more handsome father.

"Why does everyone *say* that? He's 10 months old for cryin’ out loud! He hardly has any discernable features under all that baby fat!" Brian complains.

"He's not a fat baby, Brian. And under what normal baby fat he has, it's easy to see your face in his. And his eyes, his eyes are endlessly deep, long lashed, hazel-green flecked with gold. Brian, if there was a baby line-up, no one would have any question which child was yours."

"A 'baby line-up'?" He snorts.

"Yeah. A baby line-up." I look at him with concern; he's trying to hide the pain he's in. I can tell the meds aren't kicking in yet -- or the pain is too great for the pills to work this time. His eyes are closed and it's obvious to me that he's trying to focus on ignoring the pain.

Linds looks at me from next to the door and gives a short wave goodbye. 'We'll be back very soon; take good care of him,' she mouths. I smile. She quietly leaves.

Then I lie next to Brian, still worried about how much he's hurting. "Brian?"

"What?" he barks, opening his eyes. "Where's my son? What are you doing lying next to me *again*?"

"Brian, Lindsay just left with Gus. She said she'll be back really soon." I pause. Fuck. I wish I could help him. "Um, may I give you a warm sponge bath? Give you a gentle, soft massage?"

"Gus is gone? And am I in some straight soft porn movie? 'Gentle, soft massage'?? Listen to yourself!" he snaps angrily.

Fuck, what a grump. "Yes, Brian. Gus went with his mommy but they'll be back within hours. And, sponge bath and soft, gentle massage it is!" I whisper in his ear. "Hmmm. Straight soft porn… we're gonna see how the other half lives," I add, undaunted by his moodiness. I get up and bring back a small tub of very warm water, sudsy with fragrant soap. I go back again and bring in a tub of warm, clear water and a sponge.

I gently lower the blanket from his beautiful, hurting body and unsnap his brace. The bruising on his torso makes me want to cry, especially when I think of the painfully broken ribs underneath his smooth skin. Of course, I know now not to do something *like* cry. He'd flip. I just bite my lower lip. I carefully lower his pajama bottoms which we put on him last time he was in the bathroom. We used the soft cotton pj's in lieu of the cargo shorts he’d been wearing. His cock still amazes me in its size and beauty. It's semi hard, but I think the pain he's in precludes him from being his normally virile self right now.

I sit next to him, his one leg in two casts, one at the ankle and other at the patella, both shattered but hopefully healing.

"Brian…" I sigh.

He raises an eyebrow at me curiously. "What?"

"No. Nothing. You're just… you're just… you're beautiful, incredible," I whisper. I gently soap his ideal yet battered body with the sponge, trying desperately to keep from either drooling over his incredible body – or crying over his horrible injuries. "Just beautiful…" I mutter, repeating myself.

"Stop it. You've said that a billion times; you must have a weird fetish for mangled bodies," he mumbles.

Fuck, I love the slight Irish brogue he's developed in Ireland in the past 7 months. It's so fucking sexy. Hell, *he's* sexy. He's sex, he's hot, he's *it*.

But, still, my response to his griping: "Just shut up. I don't have a fetish for mangled bodies. I *hate* seeing you hurt like this, you fucker. I've told you before that I can't wait till you heal; not just because I want to see you in all your glory; I want you healthy. All of you."

"Gawd. Shut up!" he exclaims.

Ignoring the grouch, I rinse off his body and direct him to turn over so I can bathe his back. The cane marks still shock me.

I find myself being extra gentle and holding back even more tears. Shit.

After I'm done, I rinse his back, tenderly dry him off and refasten his brace. I give him a very gentle massage around his neck and shoulders and then ask him to turn around again. Regretfully, I pull up the blanket to cover him up to his belly.

I leave the pajama bottoms off for now. I know he's only wearing them so I won't get shy around him, but I'm not shy around him. I'm only shy when it comes to me being naked, not him. I *love* when he's naked. He's so at ease with his own nudity. Frankly, I'm envious. He's perfect, despite his wounds and broken bones.

Fuck. I have it bad. He's stolen my heart, mind and soul completely.

Bri knows he's attractive, but he's shown a self-conscious side to me that I think is mainly rooted in the fact that his body is battered, and he's unable to move like he normally would. And I imagine that he normally moves like a panther - lithe and graceful. I think Brian's 'self consciousness' is also rooted in his lack of independence given his current state of health.

It's gotten dark outside now and I gently rest my head on his naked chest and I hear myself sigh.

"What the fuck!?" he exclaims.

"*Now* what?" I ask, a bit impatiently. The man refuses any sympathy at ALL and is being such a fuckhead. I'm getting mad myself. I know it's due to his pain, but he's being a real jerk.

"No tenderness shit," he states blandly. "No sighing."

I grin and snuggle up closer. "Sorry. But Brian, you're my captive. So shut the FUCK up, enjoy the warmth from the sponge bath I just gave you and sleep!"

...Amazingly, he does. In fact, we both fall asleep.

There's a sudden loud knock on the door.

Brian groans. "What the…"

Fuck, he's still irritable. This 'what the...?', seems to be the theme at the moment. I stand and go to the door. "It's Michael," I announce unnecessarily as the man pushes past me and heads towards Brian.

"Mikey, what are you doing here?"

Michael puts down a bag of food and another bag of what looks to be clothing. "You need this." It's after 8PM!

"I what?" Brian's meds have actually kicked in and he's slightly groggy.

"*This*!"

"What? Stale Thai food and crappy old clothes?"

"Yes."

I actually appreciate Michael's comments. Brian needs to eat. And I need a change of clothes- Brian's old clothes will be too big, but they're better than nothing. "You do, Brian," I agree.

"Fuck that! I'm fine in pajamas or buck naked and I'm fine with room service!"

Michael looks at me and then back at Brian. During his sleep, Brian must have kicked off part of the covers- or maybe I did; whatever happened, Brian's lying there in full view, naked except for that awful brace; his pajama bottoms are in a heap by the bed.

"Brian, you shit, you'll feel so much better in real clothes and eating real food!" Michael pauses a moment; it's impossible not to notice him ogling.  "…It's all flesh- er- FResh- the food, I mean- and the clothes are all soft, clean and what Ma calls 'pliant' so they won't hurt you. You know, they won't aggravate your injuries or whatever."

"So your mother set you up to do this? She already brought over a shit load of food, Mikey."

"No, she didn't set me up to do this. I didn't take any convincing from anyone, dickwad. I love you."

"Fuck." Still, Brian smiles slightly.

I look at Brian and see the warmth in his eyes. Shit, I wish I couldn't read him. I wish he was a mystery to me like he seems to be to so many others in his life. I mean, he is - a mystery, I mean. But his soul is so scintillating, so charismatic…

Suddenly, there's another knock on the door.

"NOW what!!!?" he yells. Charismatic and scintillating or not: he's a fuckin' ornery bastard.

I quickly cover him up with the blanket and tentatively, I open the door- and there's Linds and Gus again. "You guys just left," I whisper.

Lindsay nods and comes in with a bag full of… Italian food and Brian's clothing. Aw, man.

But Brian actually seems to swell at the sight of his son, even though Gus practically just left with Lindsay. Although, we were sleeping awhile - it might have been a few hours ago.

"Gus!" Brian exclaims as soon as he sees Lindsay and their son. "You're back!"

Gus of course says nothing, but he gurgles and coos and reaches for his father. Linds happily hands him over to Brian.

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