Homecoming

*43*

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Home at Last


Brian

Right now I’m wondering what the fuck I was thinking when I signed up for all this shit.

For a fucking house that it’s going to be weeks if not months before we can live in comfortably; for a fucking partner who’s spent all day arguing with me about where to put every single fucking stick of furniture we own; and for a live-in kid who has spent the whole day right under my feet determined to “help” and behaving like a complete fucking drama queen if he didn’t think his help was being appreciated enough.

At least I know I’m not going to turn into fucking Jack any time soon, because if I were they would both be sporting bruises or worse by now.

Surprisingly, that thought makes me laugh.

Yeah, right. Like I’d get away with that shit on Sunshine’s watch. Raise my hand to either of them and he’d cut off my balls so fast I probably wouldn’t even notice till I saw Deb wearing them for earrings.

I choke off another laugh and he looks at me like I’m losing it. But the thing is … I find immense comfort in the very fact that I’m not signed up with another Joanie – someone who’d take all the shit as long as it kept a roof over her head, sherry in the cupboard and let her hold her head up in Church.

I might refer to him as a little twat, but my partner’s got balls the size of Texas and knowing that he’ll put up with a lot of my shit because he loves me, but he sure as fuck won’t let any of it affect Gus if he can help it. It is like operating with one of those safety harnesses; I might stumble along the way, but I’m not going to be allowed to crash and burn. It makes the whole “Daddy” thing a lot less scary.

All of which means that even though it’s been a fucking bitch of a day, I can still relax, knowing that even with all the shit we’ve had to deal with, I’m not going to be allowed to let it push me into fucking up big time.

Gus has been hyper and cranky and generally a pain in the ass all day, and so-called Sunshine hasn’t been much better.

If it hadn’t been for his little girlfriend none of us might have survived. But she was a fucking champion, keeping Gus out from underfoot as much as possible and helping with everything from keeping the two bottomless pits fed all day to dealing with the delivery guys. (Turns out being little and cute is just about as effective in getting those guys to move furniture around all afternoon till it’s actually in the right place as being unbelievably hot and sexy is.)

Now it’s Sunday night and we’ve at least managed to get ourselves moved into the house. We’ve left most of our shit at the loft, but we’ve got all of Gus’s stuff and enough of ours to at least be comfortable for a few nights. We can get the rest as we need it.

The place reeks of paint and sawdust; we’re going to be driven out of our minds by the work they’re going to be doing on opening up the kitchen into the front room, and after that I want the side wall of the pool area replaced with more of those glass bricks – probably clear ones down there and I’ve been thinking that maybe we could replace the wooden decking with the bricks as well, and replace the fold back wall with sliding glass panels – insulated and double glazed I guess - so that we get as much natural light into the pool area as we can, make it seem like it’s almost outside, but with all of the benefits of it being inside so we can use it all year round. Of course, all that means that it’s going to be weeks before the fucking builders get done with the place.

But I guess none of that really fucking matters, because we’re here.

Because he’s here. And Gus. And as long as they’re here and safe and happy, I can deal with all the rest of the shit.

And now that we are here, now that Gus has put his toys in the big-assed storage bins that slide out from under his bed, now that Sunshine has stocked the bar fridge in the media room with milk and juice and stuff for Gus’s lunch, and they’re both upstairs getting Gus ready for bed, things feel like they’re just about under control again. Gus is happy as a pig in shit; he loves the house, he loves his room and tomorrow he gets to go be spoiled rotten by Grandma Jenn, so he’s happy. And despite all the dramas of the day, Sunshine seems fucking happy; especially since he’s got me playing house husband of the year, crawling around like I’m doing right fucking now trying to link up all the fucking cables from the DVD player to the speakers and the TV and the CD player/ iPod dock. But whatever.

As far as I’m concerned, things could be one hell of a lot worse. Less than a month ago, he was in NY, Gus was in Toronto and I … well, I was … lost.

But now by some fucking miracle, they’re here. We’re here together; and while I hope that sometime soon Linds will pull her head out of her ass and start concentrating on Gus so that he can go back to live with her, he will still have his room here, and he’ll be using it every week.

As for Justin … the little twat looks like he’s planning on staying around for the long haul this time.

So I’m pretty fucking happy myself, I guess.

 

*****
 

Justin

Fuck! I’m tired. We managed to get Gus to bed on time – mainly because he loves his little room so he was really excited to sleep there for the first time. The room’s okay. It’s been painted a nice sort of soft buttercup yellow. The drapes are blue with yellow moons and stars and suns and the bedding’s blue to match. Fucking Marty/ Marilyn really did work miracles.

When things are settled down a little I want to paint something for the room. I wanted to do a mural, right on the walls, but Brian thinks that’s kind of dumb because whatever I paint, he’ll grow out of it so quickly and it will have to be painted over. I don’t think that’s any big deal, but he says I should just do a painting, or paint something on panels that can be moved or replaced.

I guess that kind of makes sense; it’s actually given me a few ideas. If I use panels, I could make it like a continuing story that sort of grows up with Gus. I’ll think about it some more when I get the Warhol piece finished.

There’s another piece that I can’t wait to get started on as well. The one about Brian.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what Daphne said yesterday about the whole LA thing and how I handled it.

The thing is, if it had been the other way around, if Brian had done that to me, everyone we know would have been hounding him and calling him a totally selfish narcissistic asshole and all that crap.

But because I did it to him, everyone seemed to think that was okay. Like ignoring Brian’s feelings and Brian’s needs when I’m supposed to be his partner is alright.

And that’s what I’ve been thinking about. It’s not whether I was right or wrong to go to LA or even to handle the whole film offer the way I did. It’s about that difference between the expectations on me and the expectations on Brian. And the kicker is that Brian buys into all that shit. Even if he spouts his whole ‘you can’t count on anyone but yourself’ bullshit, he really means that he doesn’t feel like he can count on anyone else. Because the truth is that people can count on him; people do. And he always comes through in the crunch.

So I’ve been thinking all this, and I want to find a way to paint something that shows – not just how I see Brian as being the one who provides support to all of us, but to show myself, his partner, as being ready to support Brian, as being someone he can count on.

And do all that without straying into ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ sentimentality.

Anyway, for now I can help support him. I can help him make sure that things are okay for Gus, because really that’s the most important thing for either of us right now.

We’ve got the week ahead organized anyway. Tomorrow, Mom will pick Gus up from school and Brian is going to collect him from Mom’s in time to get him home and fed and into bed. He’s also going to make time on Tuesday to take him to the first supervised visit with Lindsay. I’ll pick him up after school on Wednesday, and probably Thursday as well. Then Mom will on Friday and maybe we’ll both collect him from Mom’s on Friday night. Or maybe she could bring him over here and baby-sit for a few hours so we can have another night out. I guess she could even bring Tucker. Maybe if I’m around him enough I’ll kind of get used to him.

So although the week is going to be busy with me working in the studio and him trying to catch up at Kinnetik and all the time making sure Gus is okay, at least we have a plan.

But I can’t help wonder how Brian is really feeling about all this. I know he loves Gus. That’s really obvious, but even so … suddenly finding himself in a full time relationship, moving out of his loft, which is so linked to his self-image and the face he likes to present to the world, and having Gus full-time … this is so not what he thought things were going to be like.

It’s funny, we were out saying goodbye to Daphne – the three of us – and Daph took a photo. She sent it straight to my cell and …

I don’t know … it was almost like looking at people I don’t even know.

Brian was smiling, for a start. I mean … a real smile, not the smirk he usually adopts for photos.

And, despite the fact that we’d been through so much chaos, despite the fact that we were all dirty and tired and kind of grumpy, we look happy.

Brian and I both look happy.

And kind of relaxed.

It’s fucking weird.

It’s like … like we really have come home. Like we already feel at home here, with all that means.

 

So tonight … tonight we are in our new house, and Gus is safely tucked up in bed. We have a baby monitor set up just in case he wakes up and doesn’t know where he is, but he went out like a light so hopefully he’ll sleep soundly.

Meanwhile, we have our privacy back and an awful lot of new rooms to ‘christen’.

I’m standing under those amazing windows trying to work out just where to start, when Brian comes looking for me. And somehow that’s when I know that we should start right here. It’s right that the first time we make love in this house should be in this incredible space that Dan and Billy created.

I reach for Brian and he comes into my arms like he’s been waiting all his life for this moment.

I guess he has.

I guess we both have.

 

*****
 

Brian

So first we fuck on the rug in front of the fire. That’s okay. In fact, it’s hot – and not just from the flames.

Then while he gets something to eat (because it’s at least two hours since he last ate with Gus), I get the Jacuzzi going.

We take some cheese and wine and other shit in there with us and spend some time just unwinding and letting the jets of hot water ease away a hell of a lot of the stresses and strains of the day.

I could definitely get used to this.

Then he gets kind of frisky and insists that we start experimenting with ways to enjoy the tub even more. He’s very inventive and comes up with a few that are more than satisfying and I figure I could absolutely get used to this.

We clean up and head upstairs, and although he thinks he’s ready to fall straight to sleep I manage to get inventive on my own account and demonstrate a few reasons why he might want to stay awake just a little longer.

And Gus sleeps through it all.

All in all, our first night in the new place could have been a shit-load worse.

 

*****



 

Author's Note:

So ... I've come to a decision.

This will be the last chapter of Homecoming.

That doesn't at all mean that the story is finished.

But the boys really are home now.

So it's time to move on to the next stage in their lives - Home-building. Don't be anxious. The first chapter of that one is already half-written.

I'm looking forward to exploring how their lives will play out - whether Linds will get her act together, how Mikey and Ben are going to deal with Ben's own homecoming, how Emmett will get on in his new place, and especially what the gang are all going to think of the house.

So ... more soon, I promise.
 

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