You Look Like
Shit
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"You look like shit!" Cynthia said.
"Fuck you!" Brian retorted. Trouble was he felt like shit.
Cynthia chuckled. "I wasn't trying to be nasty. I just meant that you look awful. You haven't been up to snuff the last couple of days."
"Got any snuff? It might help," Brian said, but he knew she was right. "I've got some kind of bug, scratchy throat, stuffed up," Brian explained.
"Strange," she said. "I don't think I've ever seen you sick before. Hung over, wasted, but never ill."
"I'm not fucking ill!" Brian retorted, and then coughed.
"It sure sounds like you are.
It's almost
"I have too much to do," Brian sighed.
"You've been working late every night for two weeks. You're running yourself down."
"I'm fine."
"You know that old saying about burning the candle at both
ends. You're wearing yourself
out. You're here till all hours
during the week, then you rush off to
"Not much," Brian admitted ruefully. "But I don't need much, never have. I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He coughed again.
"Okay, if you're sure," she said. She knew she had pushed about as far as she could without making him mad.
"Have Kevin and Jack polished up the presentation for Bedford Furniture?" Brian asked, getting back to work. Again he coughed.
Cynthia watched him, still concerned. "They're ready. The print ads are ready to go the magazines. Mr. Bedford will be here tomorrow to give his final approval."
"Good," Brian said. "That will
be one thing off my plate, provided all goes well."
"Anything else?" Cynthia asked.
"No. Why don't you take off
early tonight?" Brian offered.
"I will if you will."
Brian groaned, then coughed again. "Maybe I will."
"He really is sick," Cynthia thought as she went back to her
desk. "Men are such stubborn
assholes."
A little after six Cynthia heard Brian coughing as he came out of his
office. She was packing up to
leave. Brian had his coat on
and briefcase in hand.
"I thought I told you to leave early," Brian said to her.
"This is early," she replied.
He snorted.
"I see you decided to get out of here before
Brian went to speak, but a fit of coughing took over.
"Brian, I'm glad you're leaving early. Go home and get some rest," she said gently.
"Sure," Brian replied. "Good
night, Cynthia."
It was pouring rain when Brian drove out of the parking garage, one of those cold, drenching downpours that helped to wash the remnants of winter away. Brian was deciding which take-out to pick up when he heard thud, thud, thud. He pulled over to the curb.
"This better not be a fucking flat
tire!" He threatened any god
that was listening.
He reached into the back seat, fishing around for his umbrella. Then he remembered that he had used it at Lindsay's a couple of weeks ago. He must have left it there. He stepped out into the pouring rain. The tires on his side were fine, but the front passenger one was flat as a pancake.
"Fuck!" He gave it a good kick. That brought on another round of coughing. By the time he got back in the Jeep, his hair was soaking wet and was dripping down into his shirt collar. The shoulders of his coat were soaked through. He shivered as he dialed the number for AAA on his cell phone. It took them a half hour to get there. He had cranked up the heater in the car, but he was still damp and miserable when the tow truck arrived. The man told him to sit in the truck while he changed the tire. It was as cold in the truck as it was outside, but at least it wasn't as wet. He shivered and coughed as he waited for the man to do his job.
When the tire was finally changed, Brian headed for the loft. The thought of food sickened him. He just needed to get warm. He got into the shower immediately, hoping the hot water would take the chill out of his bones. He felt a little better after the shower, but still couldn't really get warm. He climbed into bed, wrapped the duvet tight around him and fell into a fitful sleep.
An intermittent ringing awoke him. He looked around, noting that he had kicked off the covers. He was hot. Hadn't he been cold?
"Shit!" The phone rang
again. He glanced at the clock
which registered
"And hello to you too," Justin replied. "Where have you been? It was your turn to call."
"I…um…fell asleep," Brian admitted.
"You?" Justin asked, incredulous.
"Yes, me!" Brian replied testily. "I'm not a fucking vampire. I do sleep at night." He quickly covered the phone, as another cough rattled from his chest.
"Brian … Brian?" he heard Justin saying.
"Yeah."
"What's going on? Are you all
right?"
"Just dandy!"
"Brian?"
"I've got a cold," Brian finally admitted.
"You're sick?"
"I'm never sick. I just have a little cold."
"Poor baby!" Justin cooed. "Want
Justin to kiss you and make it all better?"
"Please," Brian moaned, then covered the phone to cough again.
"Brian, are you really all right?" Justin asked. Brian never said please about anything.
"I'll be fine."
"Want a little hand action? I
bet that will fix you right up," Justin whispered seductively.
"Sure." God, Justin hated that word.
"Brian, I'm worried about you."
"Is that supposed to get me hard?"
"Asshole! Maybe you should just
go back to sleep," Justin suggested.
"Maybe I should," Brian muttered.
Now Justin knew that Brian was really sick. He would never turn down sex otherwise, even phone sex.
"Brian, do you want me to come to
"It's a fucking cold, Justin! Don't be stupid!"
"I'm not stupid. I'm concerned."
"Well, don't be. I'm going back to sleep and you go back to your homework. I'll talk to you tomorrow night." Brian could feel another round of coughing coming on. "Later," he croaked and hung up as another fit of coughing took over.
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Brian awoke wrapped in the duvet. He was shivering and his teeth chattered in his head. If possible, he felt worse than last night. He struggled out of bed and coughed all the way to the bathroom. He took his morning piss and turned on the shower. He hoped a hot shower would warm him up and make him feel better.
Somehow Brian managed to get to work. He really felt fucking awful, but he had work to do. He knew he'd have to feel better as the day went on. He couldn't possibly feel any worse.
"I thought you looked awful yesterday," Cynthia greeted him, "but you look ten times worse today."
"Well, that information just perks me right up!" Brian said
sarcastically. "Do you have any
other words of encouragement?"
"Go home, Brian. You should be
in bed."
"Want to come with me?" he snarked.
"Of course not!" She could
feel herself blushing. He could
always get to her. "You're not
going to get much accomplished here, in the shape you're
in."
"I've been in worse conditions," he retorted, trying not to cough.
"I've seen a few of them, but they had nothing to do with being sick. You brought them on entirely of your own doing."
"Yeah," he agreed coughing.
"Go home! I'll rearrange your schedule."
"I'm okay and I'm already here.
It's just a cold. I'll
be fine." He coughed again.
"Suit yourself," Cynthia gave in. "Have you taken anything for this non-illness?"
"No!"
"I'm going to the pharmacy in the lobby. I'll get you some aspirin and cough syrup, maybe some throat lozenges."
"Don't buy out the whole fucking store!" he told her and stomped off into his office.
"He didn't tell me not to go," Cynthia thought, surprised. She grabbed her purse and went off to get Brian his over the counter medications.
Brian immediately took some of the aspirin, and the cough medicine helped
him get through the rest of the day.
Just before
"Sure," she said. "Are you stockpiling it?"
"No, I finished the one you got this morning."
"What?"
"The one you got me this morning is empty," he repeated.
"Did you read the instructions on the box?"
"No. I just took a swig every time I felt like coughing. That stuff works really well."
"Brian, you're only supposed to take it four times in a twenty-four hour period," she explained.
"Oh," said Brian, "I would have been coughing all day, if I had done that."
"There's a reason for coughing. It helps to clear the lungs."
"You mean I'm supposed to cough up crap?" Brian asked.
"Yes, if that's what your body needs to do," she
responded. "Christ, you really
don't know anything about being sick, do
you?"
"I told you. I'm never sick."
Cynthia snorted.
"Get me a couple of bottles of that stuff, just in case," Brian continued.
Brian went home early again. He still felt crappy, but the fact he hadn't coughed hardly at all during the day made him hope he was improving. His head was still stuffy and he had a kind of tightness around his chest. He was no longer shivering or sweating. Cynthia said the aspirin helped with that.
When he arrived at the loft, he took a long, hot shower and several more
aspirin. He crawled into bed
and fell asleep. Once again the
phone ringing woke him. It was
"How are you?" Justin asked immediately.
"Peachy!" He took a swig of cough syrup so he wouldn't cough all through their conversation.
"You don't sound peachy," Justin warned him.
Brian groaned. "Well maybe I'm apple-y or pear-y or lime-y or fucking grapefruit-y!"
"Fruity, yeah," Justin giggled.
Brian had to laugh at that and he immediately started coughing. Christ, his chest felt like it was in a vise. "Don't make me laugh!" he complained taking another swig of the cough medicine.
"Are you taking anything for this cold?" Justin asked.
"Cynthia got me aspirin and cough syrup."
"That's good, but maybe you should go to the doctor."
"For a cold? I don't fucking think so! Besides I don't have a doctor," Brian stated. "Never needed one."
"You could go to a walk-in clinic or to the doctor who tests you every six
months," Justin suggested.
"I'm fine. Can we talk about something else?"
"Are you going to be well enough to come to my art show this weekend?" Justin asked.
"Shit! I forgot all about that. Tomorrow's Friday, isn't it?"
"Yes," Justin replied. "Maybe
you better not come if you don't even know what day of the week it is."
"I'm coming."
"Brian, seriously, are you all stuffed up?" Justin probed.
"Yes, why?"
"Then you probably shouldn't fly."
"Why?"
"You could burst your eardrum from the pressure. They say the change of pressure is really painful too."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it's bad to fly with a head cold."
"But I'll miss your show … and you!"
"There'll be the big show at the end of the course. You can see all my stuff then." Justin tried to be cheerful.
"But I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too, but you probably should rest."
"I don't want rest. I want to
fuck you!"
Justin giggled. "You sound like a horny, petulant three year old."
"I don't think three year olds can be horny," Brian stated.
"Only when they're thirty-three!"
"Fuck you! I'm not thirty-three!"
Justin laughed. Brian was still testy about the whole age thing. "I'm going to give you a choice. Okay?"
"A choice?"
"Yes. See a doctor and get permission
to fly or stay at home."
"What kind of a choice is that?"
"The only one you're getting."
"You're not the boss of me!" Brian retorted.
"Justin chuckled. "Did you get that one from Gus?"
"Yes," Brian admitted sheepishly.
"Behave yourself! Now what's it going to be?"
"I'm coming."
"Then you have to see a doctor!"
"Do not!"
"Yes, you do."
"You can't make me."
"Wanna bet?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, what do I get if I win?" Justin demanded.
"A really good fuck," Brian replied.
Justin snorted. "I get that all the time. My boyfriend is an excellent lover. You'll have to do better than that."
Brian chuckled. "How about a
date and the best fuck of your life?"
"Tempting. Are you sure you can deliver?"
"Asshole! Of course I'm sure!" Brian took another shot of the cough medicine, finishing off his second bottle of the day.
"I don't know," Justin mused. "I
guess that'll have to do."
"Twat! What do I get if you can't
make me see a doctor?"
"Hmm. How about a date and the best fuck of your life?"
"Tempting," said Brian. "Are you sure you can deliver?"
"Of course I'm sure," Justin responded.
"Sounds like a win/win situation to me," Brian judged.
"Honestly Brian, you should see a doctor. I don't want you to fly if it's going to damage your ears."
"You think that little bit of fucking sincerity is going to get me to see
a doctor? Think again!"
"I wasn't even trying to talk you into seeing the doctor. I really mean what I said."
"I'm not going to a doctor!"
"Fine! Come here and see what happens."
"What do you mean?"
"If you think I'm going to kiss someone who's contagious with God knows what,
you're crazy."
"I wouldn't want to give this to you."
"Good, because you won't get that
opportunity. It will be strictly
hands off. No fucking either!"
"What?"
"You heard me!"
"Justin?" Brian didn't know what to say. There was no response from the other end of the line. "Justin?" Brian said again.
"What?"
"If the doctor says it's okay, then we could fuck. Right?"
"I suppose. Does that mean you're
going to the doctor?"
"I'll go," Brian gave in.
"Good, and you owe me a date and the best fuck of my life."
"Shit!" Brian groaned. He opened
his other bottle of cough syrup.
Justin was tempted to gloat, but he decided he better back off. He had accomplished his goal of getting Brian to go to the doctor, and he better leave well enough alone. If he ticked Brian off, he might change his mind.
Brian had taken another gulp of the cough medicine. "You are a devious shit!" he said. "You played me like a violin. Fuck! Bad analogy!"
"Certainly is," Justin grimaced. "But you said you were going to the doctor!"
"I'll go to the walk-in clinic in the morning."
"Call me and tell me what the doctor says."
"Okay."
"I love you. You need to take
care of yourself."
"I'll try.
Bye." Brian ended the
call.
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Brian called Justin about
"Hey," he answered.
"I hope you're fucking satisfied!" Brian lit into him.
"What happened?"
"I sat in that fucking clinic for over an hour before I saw the fucking doctor. Do you know there were all these sick people in the waiting room?" Brian whined.
"Brian, you are one of those sick people."
"I am not. I probably caught
something fatal."
"You are such a baby!"
"If I die, it's your fault!"
"You're not going to die." Justin
stifled a laugh.
"You don't know that!" Brian declared.
"What did the doctor say?"
"I'm not coming to
"Why? What did he say?"
"I … probably … I probably have pneumonia," Brian groaned.
"Pneumonia?" Justin was shocked. He had thought Brian had a cold and was worried about him flying and hurting his ears. Not pneumonia! "Brian, how can that be? You're never sick."
"That's what I kept telling you, but you had to make me go to the
doctor. Now I have pneumonia."
"Brian, going to the doctor didn't give you pneumonia."
"It sure seems like it did!"
"Will you just tell me what the doctor said?" Justin requested.
"He said there's fluid in my lungs. Called it walking pneumonia, because I'm still walking around. Isn't that fucking hilarious?"
"Brian, be serious. How did this
happen?"
"Here's the fucking irony! The cough medicine I was taking was suppressing the cough, when what I should have been taking was an expectorant to cough up crap."
"So the cough medicine caused this?"
"Not directly. I may …
um… have taken more of it than I should, but other things like my smoking
also added to the problem. I
got drenched in the rain and sat in wet clothes for over an
hour. I've also been working
so hard, and I guess I let myself get run down from that and going to
"I'm sorry, Brian. I didn't know that I was adding to your problems."
"Don't even say that! The
trips to
Justin heard the weariness in Brian's voice. He didn't want him giving up. "What did the doctor tell you to do?" he asked, hoping to redirect Brian's thinking to something more positive.
"He's put me on antibiotics. I'm supposed to get lots of rest and no flying. I have to stay close to home."
"How long?"
"Antibiotics for two weeks. I have to stay at home for four or five days. Lots of sleep and fluids. By then the drugs should have kicked in and I should start to feel better, at least that's what's supposed to happen."
"Where are you now?"
"At the pharmacy, picking up my stash."
"Don't joke about this. It's serious."
"I know, but I can't believe this is happening to me."
"Do what the doctor says and take care of yourself."
"I'll try," Brian moaned. "I
wish you were here."
"I could skip my show and fly there."
"Don't you dare! That would make
me really sick. Just because
I'm fucked up, doesn't mean you have to be
too. I'd like you here, but it's
not necessary. I'll be all
right."
"If you're sure…" Justin
was torn. He wanted to attend
his art show, but he also wanted to comfort Brian.
"I'm sure. They just handed me my prescription. I'm going to go home to my lonely sick bed. I'll try to get well as quickly as I can."
"Good boy!" Justin encouraged him.
"Later," Justin signed off.
"Later."
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Justin made a few phone calls as soon as he got off the line with
Brian. He wanted to be in
Brian drove back to the loft. The doctor had told him he could not go to work for a minimum of four days, preferably five. That meant that if he counted today and the weekend, he could probably go back to work on Tuesday. That wasn't too bad. He'd only miss two days of work. The doctor said he should start feeling better by then as well. The antibiotics would have kicked in.
He called Cynthia and told her the score. He knew she would cover his ass and keep Vance off his case. He was so thankful that she was there to hold the fort.
He hated not being in
He crawled into bed as soon as he had taken one of his antibiotics. He usually slept very little, but this pneumonia really knocked him out. He felt weary to the bone, no energy to do anything. He hoped the constriction around his chest would soon go away. It bothered him a lot. It hurt to cough and he was supposed to cough. The doctor had told him to expect green or brown mucous to start coming up in the next day or two. That was something to fucking look forward to.
Brian was awakened by the sound of dishes rattling in the loft. He bolted upright, muttering, "What the fuck!"
"Brian, are you awake?" Debbie's voice called out.
"I am now! Is that you, Deb? What the fuck's going on?"
"Sunshine called me and told me that you were sick. I got Michael's key and I'm warming up some chicken soup I brought for you."
Brian groaned. If Justin called Debbie, that meant they would all know. That meant he could look forward to a steady stream of well-meaning visitors and their inane comments.
"What time is it?" Brian asked.
"A little after six."
"Jesus, I slept most of the day away."
"That's good!" Debbie said, coming up the steps with a bowl of soup and some
crackers. She gave Brian the
once over. "Christ, you look
like shit!" she told him.
"That makes me feel so much better," Brian said sarcastically.
"Sit up so you can eat your soup."
"I don't want soup. I was perfectly
happy sleeping."
"You need to sleep, but you also need to
eat. How are you going to fight
this thing, if you don't feed your body?"
Brian groaned, but he pulled himself up and lodged some pillows behind his back. Debbie set the tray on his lap. He took a taste of the soup. He had to admit it was good, lots of rice and vegetables. He ate several more spoonfuls as Debbie watched him.
"It's good, Deb," he finally said.
She nodded. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"Like I look."
Debbie chuckled. "That bad,
eh?"
"Pretty much."
"Are you coughing anything up?" she asked.
"Not yet. The doctor said it might take a day or two before that begins to happen."
"You should put your head over a pot of steaming
water. Steam helps to loosen
everything up."
"No fucking way!"
"It's also good for the complexion," Debbie tried to encourage him.
"Make me look twenty again?"
"I wouldn't go that far." Brian grimaced. "But it couldn't hurt. I'll get Emmett to do that for you tomorrow."
"Emmett?"
"Yeah, we drew up a schedule of who will bring you meals and make sure you take care of yourself."
"Shit!" They'd all be parading through here. "I'm going to kill that little fuck. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut?"
"Because he loves you. Justin
did what he thought was best," Debbie told
Brian. "He wanted to come look
after you himself, but he said you wouldn't let
him. We all know how well you
take care of yourself. You should
be grateful that he cares so much about you, and us too."
"I…I am grateful, I guess.
Thanks, Deb! It's just
that I hate this. I've never
been sick and I don't see why I have to start now."
"That's true. As long as I've
known you, I don't think I've ever seen you sick before."
Debbie's eyes
twinkled. "You must be getting
old!" She waited for the
reaction. Brian merely made a
face. That worried
Debbie. "I was only kidding,
Brian," she said softly.
"I know, but I feel like I'm a hundred years old. I hurt all over, especially my chest. I have no energy. All I want to do is sleep. Is this what it's like to be really old?"
"Why are you asking me that?"
Brian snorted. "No reason."
"Do you really feel that awful?"
"Yes."
"You'll be fine, kiddo. We'll
take care of you."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"Ungrateful little shit!" Debbie retorted, but she bent over and gave him a kiss on the forehead, before lifting the tray from his lap. He had managed to polish off the bowl of soup while they were talking. "Is it time for another pill?" Debbie asked.
"Yeah, after meals."
"I'll get you some water."
She returned momentarily with a bottle of water. Brian took his pill and snuggled down into his bed. Debbie couldn't resist pulling the covers up and tucking them around his shoulders.
"Could you set the alarm for
"Sure, sweetie. Emmett will be here in the morning to make sure you have some breakfast. Sleep tight."
"Thanks, Deb," Brian mumbled, already half asleep.
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."
"What the fuck!" Brian opened one eye to see what looked like a pair of tangerine legs at his eye level. "Emmett?"
"In the flesh!"
"Shit! What do you want?"
"I'm here to take care of you this fine morning," Emmett cooed.
"Leave me alone," and Brian pulled the duvet over his head.
"I can see why you want to hide," Emmett commented. "You look like shit, pardon my French."
Brian groaned. How many people
had told him that already?
"What would you like for breakfast?" Emmett asked.
"Nothing! Go away!"
"You have to eat something and then take your pill."
"No!"
"I'm making you some toast and juice. You will eat it and you will like it, thank you very much."
"Shit!" Brian muttered again. When
Emmett got that tone of voice, there was no point arguing with
him. Most people thought Emmett
was a flighty queen, but when he put his mind to something he was stronger
than any material known to man.
Brian knew he better eat whatever Emmett made, and like it.
"Sit up, sweetie pie," Emmett said, bringing a tray with a glass of juice and a couple of slices of toast.
Brian propped himself up in the bed. He took the tray and had a couple of bites of the toast.
"Yummy?" Emmett asked.
"Sure. Plain toast has always been one of my fucking favorites!"
"Well, Debbie told me to make you something that wouldn't upset your stomach, something bland."
"This sure as shit fits the bill."
"Your hair does weird stuff when you sleep," Emmett observed, surveying Brian's
head. "Take your pill when you're
done."
Brian patted down some wayward strands, but he didn't imagine that made much
of a difference. He swallowed
his pill. "I need a shower,"
Brian said, sniffing at his armpit.
"Deb said you should steam. Let's do that first, then you'll get more steam from the shower. That should be good for your lungs."
"And just how do I steam?"
"Can you get up?"
"Of course I can get up. I'm not a paraplegic!"
"Don't get snippy with me, mister, or I may have to take your temperature
rectally."
"You wish!"
Emmett blushed. Annoyed with himself for doing so, he said, "Get up and come out to the table." He turned and left the bedroom.
Brian got up and went to the bathroom. He fished out a big, fluffy robe that he had bought from a hotel somewhere. Emmett had a large pot of steaming water sitting on the table. Brian sat down in front of it. Emmett had gone up to the bathroom, and he returned with a towel.
"Put your face over the bowl. I'll cover your head with the towel, and then just breathe in the steam for four or five minutes."
Brian did as he was told. Emmett nattered away the whole time. Brian listened to very little of it, merely grunting when it seemed appropriate. It was over in no time. Emmett lifted the towel and smiled at him.
"Makes your complexion just glow!" Emmett told him.
"You mean I don't look like shit anymore?"
"Hmm. I wouldn't go that far," Emmett stated.
Brian laughed and started to cough.
"Loosen anything up?" Emmett asked.
"Not yet."
"When it does start coming up, you make sure you spit it out," Emmett told
him seriously.
"How do you know all this?"
"I took care of my grandmother when she had pneumonia."
"Oh," said Brian. He always
forgot about all the things Emmett had done and all the shit he had to endure
back in
"Ready for your shower?"
"Emmett, do you think you could change the sheets on the bed while I'm in the shower? I keep sweating on and off. They're kind of gross."
"Sure, sweetie," Emmett replied.
"No problem."
Brian went to the shower. Emmett
stripped the bed. He tried to
remember the last time Brian has asked him to do something for him, ordered
him lots of times, but rarely asked. Emmett found several sets of clean sheets
in a drawer. He put on a fresh
set and had the bed ready when Brian stepped out of the bathroom.
"Thanks, Emmett," Brian said, and sank into the bed. "I think I need a nap."
"Tired you out? Well, you have
a good sleep. Ted will be here
around
"Ted?"
"We're all taking a turn. Have to look after our favorite stud!"
Brian snorted. "I'm not an invalid."
"We know, but you're not known for taking the best care of yourself, so humor
us. Okay?"
"Okay," Brian agreed. He snuggled
down into the clean sheets. They
felt good. Emmett couldn't resist
tucking him in before he left.
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"Wakey, wakey!"
Brian opened his eyes to see Ted standing over him by the side of the bed.
"Are you the next angel of mercy?" Brian asked.
"That would be me. I took an hour away from Jerk-at-Work."
"I hope you washed your hands."
"Brian!" Ted whined. Brian stuck his tongue out at him. "Are you feeling any better?" Ted asked. "You look like shit."
Brian groaned. "Thanks a heap! What are you making for lunch?"
"Are you hungry?" Ted asked hopefully. If Brian didn't want to eat, he'd never be able to make him. He never understood how Debbie and Lindsay and Justin, even Emmett, could always get Brian to do what they wanted.
"I'm not really hungry, but I guess I could eat something."
"Good," Ted replied. "Debbie left some of her soup. She said to warm it up and make sure you took your pill afterwards."
"Fine."
Ted bustled away to make the soup.
Brian decided to get up. He
was sick of lying in bed. He
threw on some sweat pants and a sweatshirt and walked down to look out the
window. It seemed like he had
been trapped in the loft forever.
It was early spring in
"Soup's on!" Ted called.
Brian went over to the table, sat down and started eating his soup. He even had a couple of crackers.
"Are your pills in the bedroom?" Ted asked. Brian nodded. "I'll bring one down to you."
Brian finished off the soup and took his
pill. Ted sure wasn't very talkative
today.
"Do you want to go back to bed?" Ted asked.
"No, I think I'll sit up for a while," Brian replied. "You can take off, if you have other things to do."
"Thanks. Hope you feel better."
Ted was gone before he could blink an
eye. Brian chuckled to
himself. "I bet Ted's relieved
that he has done his duty and escaped alive," Brian
thought. "Poor guy always was
a little afraid of me."
Brian sat on the couch and turned on the
TV. There was squat to watch
on Saturday afternoon. He shut
it off and picked up the latest copy of
GQ. That kept his attention for
a little while. He thought about
Justin and wondered how his art show was
going. He had to be there this
afternoon and tonight and tomorrow afternoon.
All of a sudden he started coughing. He felt something gross in his mouth. He grabbed a Kleenex and wiped it over the thing on his tongue. He looked at the tissue. "Fuck!" he said aloud, and then, "Gross!" The Kleenex contained a glob of greeny, brown disgusting looking shit. "If that's what's in my lungs, no wonder I feel like this," he thought to himself.
He spent the rest of the afternoon periodically coughing up this revolting phlegm and trying to find something to occupy his mind. Sometimes it took an awful lot of coughing to get this guck to come up. It tired him out. Finally he went back to bed and had barely dozed off, when he heard the loft door being pulled back.
"Which angel of mercy are you this time?" Brian called.
"Vic."
"Hi, Vic…" Brian started to say, when a particularly long and painful
bout of coughing began. Finally,
he coughed something up, wiped his mouth and fell back against the pillows,
exhausted. He looked up to see
Vic watching him.
"You look like shit!" Vic said.
Brian groaned. "You didn't catch me in one of my finer moments."
"Are you starting to cough up crap?"
Brian nodded. "Started this afternoon."
"That's good. You have to get
it out of your lungs before you'll start to feel better."
"Sometimes it really hurts."
"I bet. Anyway, I'm going to make you some dinner. You rest until it's ready. Do you want me to bring it up here or will you come down to the table?"
"Is it more than soup?" Brian asked.
"Chicken and dumplings," Vic replied.
"That sounds good enough to get up for. Will you eat with me?"
"Sure, if you feel like the company."
"Good. It's boring here by
myself."
Vic had dinner with Brian, who ate most of what was put in front of
him. They had a nice chat, only
interrupted a few times by Brian's fits of
coughing. Vic stayed until about
"Nobody's coming for breakfast tomorrow morning, so be sure you take your pill. There's juice in the fridge and instant oatmeal on the counter if you want something more substantial," Vic explained.
"I'll be fine," Brian said, wondering if that meant he was on his own from now on.
"Lindsay will be here around
"Thanks, Vic," Brian said, getting back into
bed. He set the alarm for
Brian slept pretty well except for a couple of major bouts of coughing. He took his pills on schedule and even ate a bit of oatmeal. He had dozed off again, when he heard Lindsay call, "Brian?"
"Up here," he replied.
All of a sudden a little ball of energy landed on him, and Gus yelled, "Dada, Dada!" That set him off coughing, and he felt Gus shy away and draw back to the edge of the bed. However, he couldn't stop coughing. It had to take its course.
When he was finally finished and wiped his mouth, he looked up to see both Lindsay and Melanie staring at him.
"Christ, you look like shit!" Melanie stated.
"Mel!" Lindsay admonished.
"You'll never be famous for your bedside manner!" Brian responded caustically.
"Dada, you sick?" Gus asked in a tiny voice from the far side of the
bed.
"A bit, Sonny Boy," Brian said softly. He realized his coughing spree had scared the little boy. "Come over here and give me a hug. I'm better now."
Gus moved closer and tentatively put his arms around Brian's
neck. "Love you, Dada," Gus
whispered.
"I love you too," Brian replied, squeezing the tiny body to his aching chest. "Your hugs make me feel much better."
"Good!" Gus stated kissing Brian's cheek.
"We brought lunch," Lindsay said cheerily. She and Mel went to the kitchen to get it ready.
Brian sat Gus on his lap in bed.
The little boy asked about Justin, although he didn't make nearly
the fuss he used to before Brian took him to see Justin in
They all ate lunch together at the table, almost like a real family. Lindsay must have read the riot act to Melanie because she was almost civil and lunch went well. They stayed for a while after lunch so that Brian could have some time with Gus.
"Michael will be here with your dinner," Lindsay explained as she packed up Gus' stuff. "We didn't set up a schedule for tomorrow. Most of us have to work and we thought you might be able to look after yourself by then. I'm sure Vic will come over if you need anything."
"I'll be fine. I'm actually feeling a little better. If I could only stop coughing!" Brian said.
"You need to keep coughing till you clear your lungs."
"Yes, mother."
Lindsay giggled. "Take care,
Brian. Call Vic or me if you
need us."
Brian kissed Lindsay and Gus, and they
left. It was so quiet in the
loft without them. Brian turned
on the TV. Sunday afternoon
television was even more pathetic than Saturday
afternoon. Brian got on the internet
for a while, but nothing really held his
attention. He wasn't coughing
as often, but he seemed to have to cough more and longer to get anything
to come up. He wasn't sure if
that was good or bad. He was
supposed to see the doctor on Tuesday
morning. That might mean he would
get the all clear to go back to work that
day. He hoped
so. He was feeling somewhat
better. The pressure on his chest
had eased, but it still hurt from all the
coughing. Brian paced around
the loft. He was sick of being
sick. He wanted to do something,
but he didn't know what that might be.
Finally he stretched out on the couch and fell asleep.
He was dreaming of Justin, naked, and running his hands and his mouth all over Brian's body. Justin kissed every tender and erotic spot on Brian's body. He whispered that he loved him the whole time he was doing this. Brian groaned in anticipation. He felt Justin caress his shoulders and then grab him and start shaking him. "Justin?" he moaned.
"Brian, Brian!" he heard a voice repeating. He opened his eyes to look up into Michael's face. It was Michael who had been shaking him to wake him up.
"Mikey, what's the matter?"
"I should be asking you that. I couldn't get you to wake up. I was getting worried."
"I didn't want to wake up. I
was having a … nice dream."
Brian glanced down at his cock which had obviously been enjoying the
dream too. He moved his hands
down to cover his crotch. He
willed his dick to behave.
"I brought dinner," Michael said.
"Aren't you going to tell me I look like shit? Everybody else has."
"I was thinking it," Michael admitted, "but I didn't want you to feel
any worse."
Brian groaned. What the fuck must he actually look like if everybody felt the need to tell him that? He sat up quickly which brought on another round of coughing. When it subsided he was breathless and lightheaded.
Michael looked at him and said, "You do look like shit. Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I'm fucking sick of being in bed!"
"Sorry," said Michael, backing off. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm only here to help."
"I know. I shouldn't be so fucking
ungrateful, but I'm starting to get a little shack whacky
here! I still have another whole
day of being stuck in here by myself."
"Didn't Lindsay come this morning?"
"Yeah, she brought the whole fucking family!"
"You mean Melanie. That must have made your day."
"I was glad to see Gus, but Melanie couldn't wait to tell me that I looked like shit. She really gets off on something like that."
"Ma sent over a casserole, so come eat."
Michael hoped food would put Brian in a better frame of mind.
They sat at the table eating Deb's casserole. It was delicious like all her food. There was plenty left over for tomorrow. Michael stayed with Brian till he started to get tired around nine-thirty. Brian climbed into bed.
"Don't forget to take your pills, and get better soon," Michael said, giving Brian a kiss. He tucked the covers around his friend and went home to Ben.
Brian tossed and turned thinking about Justin and his interrupted
dream. At
"Hey," Justin answered. Brian could hear the smile in his voice.
"Hey yourself."
"How are you?"
"I think I'm a little better."
"That's good."
"How was the art show?"
"Pretty boring actually."
"Why?"
"It turns out that this is more of a meet and greet for the corporate sponsors than an actual art show."
"What do you mean?"
"This course is subsidized by certain
companies. This show is held
so they can bring their families and friends to see the poor starving artists
they're helping. We're supposed
to stand by our work and tell them how grateful we are."
"No shit?"
"No shit!"
"That doesn't sound like much fun."
"It wasn't but I guess it's necessary so they can get money to run the course
again next year. I would much
rather have been there with you."
"I had a very … um … stimulating dream about you this
afternoon."
"Did you now?"
"And what was I doing in this dream?"
"You were naked and doing all kinds of naughty things."
"Such as?"
"Kissing all over my body."
"Even the tip of your cock?"
"Especially there."
"Tell me more!"
"Your hands were everywhere."
"Umm."
Brian knew Justin was stroking himself.
So was he.
"What happened next?" Justin moaned.
"Mikey woke me up."
"Shit!" Justin said.
"My sentiments exactly! I had such a hard-on. I tried to cover it up, but I think he knew."
"What did he say?"
"He pretended he didn't see."
"Poor Michael."
"Poor me! I didn't want to wake
up."
"Can we go back to your dream?" Justin asked.
"Sure, but I'll have to make the rest of it up."
"That's okay."
Brian smiled. "So your hands
were everywhere. You ran them
up the inside of my thighs and down to my balls."
"I'm good, aren't I?" Justin teased.
"The best!"
"God, I love this man!" Justin thought. "What next?" he asked aloud.
"Then your mouth traced the same path and you took my balls into your mouth and sucked."
"Ooh," Justin moaned.
"Are you close?" Brian asked.
"Yes, oh yes!" Justin panted.
"Me too."
"What happened next?"
"You took my cock all the way…down…your…throat." Brian tugged on his cock with each word. "Then…I…Came!" He came in a wrenching orgasm that made him start coughing.
When Justin's own orgasm subsided, he said, "Brian?"
There was no response.
"Brian?"
Silence.
"Shit! Brian! Brian, please answer me!"
Finally Brian's voice said, "Justin?"
"Jesus, what happened? I thought I'd killed you!"
"You can't get rid of me that easily," Brian joked.
"What happened?"
"I started coughing after I came. I had bodily fluids spewing everywhere."
"Shit!"
"I coughed up more crap than I've gotten rid of all day. I'm sure my lungs must be clear now. Maybe I should have had you do this every hour. I would have been over the pneumonia in one day."
"Briiiaaan!" Justin groaned.
"You have so many talents, Sunshine!"
"I do, don't I?" Justin teased.
"I miss you so much. I was thinking this afternoon that it's spring and it won't be that much longer before you come home."
"I know. I can hardly wait."
"Me either."
"You must be getting better.
Between joking and jacking off you almost sound like your old self."
"I'm getting there, but I wish you were here."
"Umm. Night, Brian. Later."
"Later."
Brian stared at the ceiling after he hung up the
phone. He knew he wasn't going
to sleep anytime soon. He got
up and went to the living room.
Maybe there was a movie he could watch until he felt like
sleeping. He flipped through
the channels till he found
"
"My hypocrisy (pronounced high-pocrisy) knows no bounds," says Doc. Brian could identify with that so well. "And Doc says it proudly, just like I would," Brian thought. "So much of my life I've pretended things – to make life bearable, to avoid facing unpleasant truths, to keep me alive and surviving. And until Justin I didn't even know I was pretending. Then he came along and he could see through all the hypocrisy and he loved me anyway. And I love him too."
Brian sighed and watched some more of the movie until Doc died. Doc wanted to die with his boots on, but he was flat on his back in a hospital bed. That was no way for a hero to die. Brian switched off the TV and went back to bed.
Life sucked sometimes. And then there was Justin! His Justin, his golden boy, his only Sunshine! Fuck, he missed him!
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Nobody woke him up Monday morning.
He had slept for a few hours and hadn't
coughed. When he finally woke
around
Justin made him soft and warm and safe and happy and complete.
Even in his head he sounded like a silly schoolgirl with a crush, especially the soft part. Justin wouldn't like that. He grinned. He didn't care, because it was all true. No one had ever made him feel like Justin did. In fact few people had been able to get to him and make him feel anything at all. He had studiously refused to allow feelings to be part of his world. Things were much easier when feelings were eliminated. Only now he didn't want to eliminate his feelings for Justin. He merely wanted to feel them. Then he could be warm and safe and happy and complete.
He shook his head in wonderment at his own thoughts.
"Take a shower, Kinney," he told himself, "and try to get a grip."
He finished his juice and went back up to the bathroom. He took a long, hot shower, lots of steam. This should help him cough up the last of whatever was left in his lungs. Not much came out. He hoped that was because it was all gone.
He straightened his hair and wrapped a towel around his hips. He turned to go out into the bedroom.
"Justin!" he gasped, the breath leaving his body in a rush.
"Happy to see me?" Justin beamed.
"How did you get here?"
"Early morning flight."
"How? Why?"
"I needed to see you, be sure you're all right. I thought you might need to see me too."
"I do." Brian took a step toward
Justin, and then he was in his arms and they were kissing and everything
was so right.
"I wanted to ask you to come, so much, but you have your own life and responsibilities," Brian whispered against Justin's hair.
"My life and responsibility is here with you."
"I love you," Brian declared. "I've
been so miserable."
"You don't look miserable. You
look great," Justin said smiling up at him.
"Aren't you going to tell me I look like shit? Everybody else has."
"You don't look like shit. You
look great, Brian. You always
look great!"
"In your eyes!"
"In my eyes."
Brian scooped him against his chest, and everything was right with the world.