Homecoming

*30*

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Don't Shoot the Messenger

Justin

I can hardly believe it when Brian tells me what Mel has done.  She had a wedding ceremony with Lindsay for fuck's sake.  Okay, maybe it wasn't legal, but that's not the point.  The point is it was still supposed to mean something; still supposed to mark some kind of commitment, not something just to be brushed aside for whatever fucked up reason.

Shit!

Brian sighs and rubs his hands over his face.

"I am not going to be the one who breaks this fucking news to her," he says.  "Let her lawyer do it."

I nod.  I guess if I were a better person I'd want to "be there" to support Lindsay, and all that stuff.  But like Brian told me once 'they made their own pain'.

Anyone with half a brain would have realized how fucking stupid it was to think that just because some bad shit had happened that threatened their cozy little view of the world and they got scared, they could solve all the problems in their relationship by running away to another country.  A place where they had no jobs, no support network, no friends even; and a relationship that had foundations about as stable as the San Andreas Fault.

Because the truth is that although there still might have been some kind of physical thing there (and I so don't want to think about that), I don't believe that Mel and Linds even liked each other very much anymore; let alone loved and respected each other enough to make a relationship work.

I know the appeal of the idea of a whole 'fresh start' thing, away from all the day to day shit and the people who, intentionally or not, well-intentioned or not, keep shoving their fucking noses into your relationship.  I know how good it felt when Brian and I had that trip to Chicago after the bombing and just left everything - all the everyday stuff and all the major hassles - behind for a few days.  But that was exactly it - it was a break, for a few days.  We didn't think we could leave all that shit behind permanently.  I mean, even when he visited me in New York, those weekends weren't spent in some kind of fantasy-land.  We had to fit all that intensity, all the emotions, all the hopes and fears, and the hot reunion sex into our real lives - my work, his client meetings, plane schedules and bus strikes and all kinds of everyday shit.

So if the girls thought that the whole 'escape to Canada' thing was going to solve all their problems they were seriously delusional and the whole thing was kind of doomed from the start.  I mean, if they were relying on that to salvage their relationship, then that's just crazy.

But …

I can still hardly believe that Mel has just gotten married to someone else.  Or why, if she has, she's down here creating drama over Gus.  Because, even without the whole thing with Brian's rights, even if they had gone ahead with the legal adoption, she can't imagine that she and Lindsay could have shared custody of Gus when they're in different countries.  How would that work?  Ship him back and forwards every six months?

Maybe she thought that she had Linds so whipped that Linds would stay in Toronto and give Mel all the access she wanted even though Mel was with someone else.  And now, because Linds defied her, and brought Gus back home, she's just reacting because she didn't get her own way, like she usually does.

I mean, everyone used to tell me that Mel lived to make Lindsay smile and all that shit.  But you know what?  The only major thing that Lindsay got her own way about, despite what Mel wanted, was having Brian father Gus.  Mel wanted Gus to be circumcised, and it would have happened except for Brian, regardless of the fact that Linds isn't Jewish and Gus is her biological son and maybe that's not what she wanted for him.  Mel wanted Leda to stay around, and move in with them and get involved in their lives - Leda moved in, despite how much it played on Lindsay's insecurities having Mel's ex living with them.  Mel wanted Michael (well, pretty much anyone but Brian) to father her child, Michael got to be Daddy, despite Linds wanting the children to be blood related and real siblings.  Mel wanted to keep their problems from all their friends when they split up around the time JR was born, Linds kept her mouth shut and didn't even tell Michael, despite the fact that he was JR's father and had a right to know and despite the fact that it meant lying to their friends for months.  Mel wanted to move to Canada, they moved to Canada, despite the fact that it meant taking both Gus and JR away from the other halves of their families, and despite the fact that Lindsay had to give up a job that she really loved and that she was pretty good at.  And Mel has the fucking gall to tell the whole fucking world that Brian is selfish and narcissistic.  Fuck!

People seem to think that the reason that Mel and Brian clash so much is because they are so much alike.  And I used to kind of agree.  Superficially, in a way, they're right.  But in most ways, all the ways that really matter, they are so very wrong.

Because there's no way that Brian would have pulled all that kind of shit - not on me, not on Michael, not on anyone he cared about.  Brian has always pushed us - me, Michael, even Ted and Emmett, to be independent and strong and to be, like he says, the best homosexuals we can be.  And while Brian is controlling, it's always been in a 'why the fuck are you worried about me, get the fuck out there and do what you need to do for you' kind of way.  His type of controlling is to push the people he cares about off cliffs if he thinks that's the impetus they need to let them fly, no matter what it costs him, or how much he might suffer as a result.  While with Mel, the controlling thing is always about Mel, about what Mel wants.

The truth is I will never really forgive either her or Lindsay for taking Gus up to Canada, right after they'd helped push me onto a plane.  I take responsibility for my own decision to go along with the whole 'making it in New York' thing.  It was painful, but at the time it was the right decision for me, and for Brian and most especially for us.  Because Brian would never have forgiven himself if he thought that me staying in Pittsburgh to be with him had damaged my chances for success.

But Linds wasn't thinking about that … she was just thinking about getting me away from Brian.  And all Mel was thinking about was doing her best to spite Brian - despite all that he's done for her over the years.

I'm not the starry-eyed little twink I was when they met me, grateful for any support I got in this frightening new world I was so determined to enter.  Back then, I never looked behind their kindness to me to see into their motives.

I'm an adult now, and I see their actions with much more cynical eyes.

Besides, it's not just Brian, or even me, whose lives they're fucking with now.  There are kids involved here.  And it's just not right that Gus and JR are being used in their spiteful little …

Fuck! JR.

I hesitate for a moment, but the days when I was afraid to raise difficult subjects with Brian are long gone; they have to be.

"Do you think we should tell Michael?" I ask.

Brian goes kind of quiet beside me for a moment.  Then he rubs his fingers over his lips the way he does when he's really stressed.

"Fuck!" he sighs.

"The thing is," I go on before he can answer my question.  "I'm pretty certain Mel will try to manipulate him into helping her with whatever fucked up plan she's come up with.  And if he doesn't know that she's married, and has no intention of coming back to Pittsburgh …"

"Fuck!" he says again. 

I don't have to finish the thought; he knows only too well how Mel will dangle access to JR like a great big shiny gold star , just out of Michael's reach … unless of course he goes along with her fucking master plan for total domination of all things Kinney.

"Fuck!" he says one more time, and takes out his phone.

 

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Brian

I can tell as soon as Mikey answers the phone that there's something wrong.  And no prizes for guessing what that might be.  Of course, the fact that he immediately starts babbling that he'd like to increase some imaginary fucking order, but can't discuss it right now because he has someone there is another big fucking clue.

Mind you, I have to admit that it surprises me that he could come up with even that lame attempt to cover up the fact that it's me on the phone.

"So Mel's there," I say.

"Yes, that's right," he answers, all would-be fucking professional store owner.

"Well, ask her how her new little wifey is doing," I tell him.

I hear a kind of gulp, and then he says, his voice all squeaky with shock and not nearly so professional, "What? What?"

"She fucking got married two days ago to the dyke lawyer she's been shacking up with for the last few months.  So if she's making a whole lot of promises about you spending more time with your daughter, as if she'll be living right round the fucking corner, it's all bullshit.  She's got no intention of leaving the frozen north any time soon."

I hear him breathing, all gulpy and noisy, the way he does when he's really upset and for a moment I'm almost sorry I didn't break the news to him more gently.  But fuck that.  There's no time.  I say quietly, "Mikey, listen to me.  Are you listening?"

"Yes," he says.

"Tell the bitch you can't talk with her without your lawyer being there."

I hear him gulp again, and then he says, "Yes.  Yes, I'll do that.  Thank you for calling."

And hangs up.

Well, the jury's out on how that one's going to go.

Justin's sitting looking at me like he's trying to work out how the fuck JT can swoop in and save the day and suddenly I'm just sick of all this shit.

"Do you still want to go to the house?" I ask him.

He bites his lip and then says, "Not really."

I raise an eyebrow, and he shrugs.

"I just don't want …" he breaks off and sighs, but I know what he wants to say. 

He doesn't want our first night in our new home to be tainted with all this fucking drama.  And he's right.

"Let's go home," I say.  "To the loft."

Why not?  She's done her rampaging there, and if she turns up again the cops can drag her off kicking and screaming.  I'm done.

We need a fucking break.

Literally.

At least I do.

He sits for a moment, and then nods, starting the car.

"We’ve got plenty of food," he says.  "We can just disconnect the phones, and lock the door, and let them all wait until we're ready to deal with them."

He knows as well as I do that we can't really do that.

We have to be ready to go to court this afternoon, and potentially set up another visit to Family Court to let Mel have another run at us there.  Besides, we have to be available to Gus.

But for the next hour or so, anyway, we can just get off the fucking treadmill for a while.  Or rather, get off the treadmill and start fucking.

So that's what we do.

The super is lying in wait for us when we arrive and rides up in the lift with us, giving us a blow by blow description of all the action we missed on the way - like the police arriving and insisting that Mel vacate the premises, but we manage to send him off happy once we get to our floor - with a hundred bucks tucked into his wallet that wasn't there before.  And then we get to close and lock the door with every other fucking asshole on the other side of it.  In here, for now, anyway, it's just us.

He turns to me and looks me up and down, then he grins.

"You almost look ruffled by all this drama," he says.

I stick my tongue in my cheek and just look back, letting my eyes travel up and down his body.  As if my Rageian powers of mind control really are working, he moves towards me and presses me back against the door.

Then he slides down my body and just breathes on my fly.

It's fucking ridiculous, but that alone is enough to start the blood flowing to all the best places, and I feel my cock sitting up and taking notice.

He gives one of his delicious little giggles at my reaction, and carefully undoes the zip on my almost new Prada pants.  For once I'm wearing jocks and he mouths them, wet and warm and fucking wonderful, till the material is sticking to my cock. 

He's still mouthing at me, when his arms slide round my hips and his hands push down into the back of my pants to cup my buttocks.  He squeezes them not too gently, then forces down my pants, and the jocks and then brings one hand round to free my cock, while the other slips down between my cheeks and his fingers play up and down my crack.

Then his fingers are gone and he's pulling away.  I look down and see him sitting back on his heels looking up at me.  The fingers that had been so close to my hole are now approaching his mouth, and as I watch he slides one deep inside, sucking on it wetly.  My dick twitches and I run my tongue over my lips as he slides another finger in beside the first, and then a third.  I hear the wet slurp of saliva being slathered all over them and then he's leaning forward again. 

His tongue plays over a vein on my cock and then his fingers are pressing at my hole.  I brace myself a little and he pushes one in while his tongue teases the little bundle of nerves under the head of my cock.  The second gets pushed in while he tongue-fucks my slit and the third when he finally takes me deep into his mouth.  I lean my shoulders back against the door and arch into him, letting him set the rhythm any way he wants.

For a while, nothing exists except the feelings he's evoking - and not just the physical ones.  Having someone treat me like this, understand me like this, love me like this … it's overwhelming for me.  But he does.  I know that he does.  And then my cock hits the back of his throat and he swallows around it at the same time as he crooks one finger to rub across my prostate and for a while I don't know anything.  Not even my own name. 

By the time I come back to myself, he's standing up and looking at me, a sort of question in his eyes.

I know what he wants.  Hell, I know what I want.

I pull up my almost new Prada pants and head for the bed.  Once I get there, I pull them off, and throw them on the floor.  Then I lie face down on the bed and push my ass up at him.  "If you want it you'd better hurry up and fucking take it," I tell him.  "Fuck knows how long we'll have before the phones start ringing off the wall."

He laughs, but it's all breathy and excited, and then he's reaching under me to play with my balls; both of them, he always pays as much attention to the fake one, sometimes I think he almost forgets it is fucking fake, and those times I almost do too.  I feel his teeth nip my ass, and then his tongue is pushing at my hole and I'm getting hard again already.  But it doesn't matter.  This isn't about me getting off.  It's not even about him getting off.  It's about him reminding me that it's okay to be vulnerable with him this way, that it's okay to let him take control, that I can trust him.  And even as I hear the condom packet tear and then feel the burn as he pushes inside me I know that I really can. 

That I do.

It's a fucking amazing feeling.  Something I never for a moment thought that I could ever have.  So it was something I could never let myself think about, never let myself want. 

Other people seem to go right through their lives wanting "that special someone" that they can totally trust to love them forever.

I wasn't kidding when I told Justin that night that I didn't believe in all that shit.

I still don't.  I'm still not sure what other people think love is.

But I know what it is for me.  For us even.

I know that he will never deliberately hurt me or use my feelings for him against me.  I know that no matter what happens in the future, we will always be part of each other's lives.  That we will always put each other pretty much first - except maybe for Gus.  I know that I can trust him in ways that I never believed I would ever be ready to trust anybody.  I know that I would literally be ready to die to protect him, and I suspect it's the same for him.  I know that any shitty thing that happens becomes less shitty as soon as he's around. I know that he makes me feel like … in fact, I hope we make each other feel like we're okay.  We're not fucking perfect, but we're not complete write offs either and that people who treat us that way are just plain fucking wrong - whether that's his father or my mother or any other fucker who doesn't believe that we deserve at least to be treated with respect.

Most of all, he makes me feel … content.  Happy, even.  Like I don't have to keep jumping through hoops and upholding the image, like I can just fucking stop and be myself; and that's enough for him.

And that, boys and girls, is a lot fucking more than I ever expected I would have in my life.

 

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Justin

It's weird.  I don't top often with Brian.  I mean it happens.  It's not like we never do it that way.  But compared to how often he tops me it’s like negligible, hardly ever.

But whenever it does happen, it kind of means something.

Sometimes I don't know what that is until much later.

But this time, I feel like …

I feel like it's because he's really trying to show me that for once, when under stress, under direct threat even, he's not reacting to that by setting everyone, including me, at a distance while he refortifies the Kinney-castle and raises the drawbridge.  He might still raise the drawbridge; I'm kind of afraid he might need to with Mel on the rampage and intent on doing as much damage as possible.  But this time I'm on the inside.  Literally inside him.

That's what he was telling me as I fucked his ass so hard he'll be bitching at me for a week.

I thought (as much as I can think at times like that) about being all gentle and tender and all that stuff.  But it wasn't what either of us really needed.  What we both needed was hard and edgy and real.  Because what I had to tell him while I fucked him was that he's mine; and I am not going to stand aside and let that fucking cow take a run at him without going through me first.

She thinks Brian is the one she has to worry about.  She hasn't got a fucking clue.  If she goes into some courtroom and starts to rag on Brian about his "lifestyle" and all that shit, he'll barely defend himself.  He certainly won't do it by attacking her, or Lindsay.

But I won't even hesitate.  If she tries to paint herself as some pure as the driven snow wounded wifey, then the fucking gloves are going to come off big time.  She opens her mouth about stuff that she thinks paints Brian as some kind of slut who shouldn't be allowed near any kid, then I'll spill the lot about the affair she had just after Gus was born and about the little menage-a-trois that she kind of forced on Lindsay with Leda.  As well as about Lindsay's fling with Sam and how totally fucked Melanie's reaction to that was.  And we'll see then whether the courts still think of her, or Lindsay either as upstanding citizens who should be listened to when they denigrate Brian.  Then I'll tell them how Mel used to try to turn me against Brian.  I'll list out every single spiteful thing she's ever said about him - especially the things she's said in front of Gus. 

Plus I'll tell them about all the times she's coming running to Brian for help - like over that Gui guy, and over the wedding, and whenever they needed more fucking money for whatever.

By the time I'm finished with her they'll see her as the totally neurotic, jealous cow she is, and will be glad to kick her ass back to Canada.

 

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Brian

He's still pounding my ass when the phones start ringing, but we just let them fucking ring.  I'm kind of vaguely aware of words pouring out of the answering machine, but I'm way too far gone to take any fucking notice of them.

But just as we leave the shower, my cell rings and when I pick it up it's Ms Hershell's office, so I answer it right away.

She starts right off by asking if Melanie has made any further attempts to contact us, and when I tell her not so far as I know, but we haven't had a chance to check our machine yet for any messages, she kind of snorts.

"I think you can expect her to," she says.  "At least if her recent behavior is any guide."

I sense she has more to say so I keep my mouth shut about what I think about Melanie.  Fuck, I'm sure she knows by now.

"She applied to the Family Courts this morning for a hearing to have the custody arrangements reviewed."

Shit!

But I take a deep breath and try not to freak out.  Justin is hovering at my elbow so I flip the phone onto 'speaker' mode so he can hear for himself.  If this is fucking bad, I'm not sure I'll have the words to tell him.

But then she starts speaking again and I can hear that predator note in her voice.  The one that makes me so fucking glad she's on my side.

"Don't be concerned, Mr. Kinney, the judge refused to even hear the application.  She said that she'd already ruled that Ms. Marcus has no legal standing in this case, and that being so there were no grounds for any further appeals on her part."

I feel the breath leave my body in a whoosh of air and I have the feeling that except for the arm wrapped firmly around my waist that I might have wound up on my ass on the floor. 

But she's still not finished.

"Ms Marcus apparently did not take that decision very well, and became somewhat … excited.  As a result of her reaction, the judge further stated that due to Ms Marcus's demonstrated disregard for the court's rulings she was issuing an injunction suspending any access to Gus until such time as Ms Marcus is prepared to sign a declaration stating that she accepts the court's rulings, and the custody agreements that have been reached, and will make no attempt to disrupt them."

I must be getting the fucking 'flu' or something, because suddenly the room is swimming in front of me. 

"Mr. Kinney, I am advising you in my capacity as an Officer of the Courts, that should Ms. Marcus attempt to contact you, or Mr. Taylor or Ms Petersen, and most especially Gus, in any way, she will be in breach of the injunction and the judge has issued instructions that in that case she will be cited for contempt of court.  She will be arrested and held until such time as she indicates that she is prepared to accept the Court's rulings."

I can't speak.  I can't fucking get my voice to work.

Fortunately, I don't have to.

"It's Justin Taylor here, Ms Hershell," I hear.  "Thank you so much for calling us.  And thank you for all your work on this case."

"It's my job, Mr. Taylor," she answers.  And then surprises me by saying, "But I do have to admit that I very rarely find doing my job as satisfying as I have in this case."

She seems to hesitate for a moment and then continues.

"The other thing that you should be aware of is that both I and the judge in this case have filed complaints against Ms. Marcus with the Pennsylvania Bar Association.  Her conduct throughout, from the time she first drew up the papers regarding Mr. Kinney's relinquishment of his parental rights, has been atrocious.  I would be failing in my responsibilities not to report her actions to the courts."

"Yes, I … we understand," he says so calmly that it somehow soothes my vocal chords, and I manage to croak out a few words.

"So, I guess this means we don't have to file for the restraining order?" I ask.

I can practically hear that little pursed lip thing she does when she wants to let me know that she's the fucking expert and I should just shut up.

"I would advise that we should proceed with that.  In the event that Ms Marcus apologizes to the courts the more stringent conditions of the injunction may be lifted.  She will still not be allowed access to Gus, but she may be free to contact you.  I would prefer that that was not the case.  However, in light of the Family Court injunction, having the restraining order granted should be a formality and I see no reason why you would be required to appear."

There's something niggling at my mind, but I'm too fucking boneless with relief and a kind of stunned disbelief that for once the fucking universe seems to be on my side, to be able to get my head around it.  But again, I don't have to.  The blond pit-bull at my side pipes up with the question I hadn't been able to formulate.

"What if Lindsay … Ms Petersen … lets Melanie see Gus?" he asks.

"Then by the terms of the judge's ruling, she also would be in contempt of court and would be subject to the same penalties.  In most instances, the courts would most likely be reluctant to enforce them in her case.  However, my reading of the situation is that the judge is becoming very weary of Ms Marcus's refusal to recognize her authority, and she would not take kindly to Ms Petersen enabling her to flout it yet again.  In that circumstance, she may very well feel that a period of sober reflection would be good for both parties.  And Ms Petersen will be advised of this by her counsel.  In fact, I should imagine that she has already received that advice.

"Mr. Kinney, Mr. Taylor, I have every hope that Ms Marcus will see the futility of pursuing this matter and will recognize that the most sensible thing she can do is to return to Canada and her new spouse."

Yeah and pigs might nest on the roof of the Steel Tower.  She won't want to go anywhere until she's had a piece of my ass.

But … at least we don't have to face her in court and it seems like she's got no fucking hope at all of getting any access to Gus unless Linds does something monumentally stupid.

So things are a hell of a lot better than they could have been.

I mumble some kind of thanks to the magician who has somehow made this happen.  I'm paying her a not so small fucking fortune, but what the fuck does that matter?  I resolved going in that she could have it all, as long as I got to keep contact with my kid.  And I have done way better than I could ever have fucking imagined.

There are a couple more minutes of formalities about what we should do if Mel shows up, and about payment and all that shit.

Then I click off the phone and for a long moment we just stare at each other. 

I can feel myself start to grin, and he hugs me and it seems like all should be okay with the world.  But it's not.  There's something wrong.  Despite the fact that he's smiling at me, somewhere behind his eyes he looks seriously pissed.  I'm trying to work out what the Hell is wrong with him when the loft phone rings; it almost immediately cuts to voicemail and Debbie's voice echoes round the loft.

3^rd April, 2011

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