Homecoming

*8*

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Old Friends and New
 
Brian


Fuck! That's crazy. The listed price is twice that, and he could probably get more if he put it up for auction.

I start to work out what's wrong with the place. White ants? Dry rot? Land erosion? Maybe that's it, maybe it's slowly sliding into the river.

As the wheels turn in my brain, the old bastard turns his head and grins at me with that death's head grin. "I have money," he says, "and it's no fucking use to me. What I need is to know that this place is in good hands, in hands Billy would have wanted."

"You could always just fucking give it away!" I snap. He laughs.

"I could," he agrees. "But I'm a great believer in the idea that you only really value what you have to work for, what you earn."

Our eyes meet, and we share a moment of complete understanding that scares the shit out of me. I don't want some old buzzard to be able to read me this way. It's even more fucking annoying that I know he knows that.

Justin, in one of his 'I'm so onto you' moments, gives me a look that tells me if I want his ass tonight I should keep my mouth shut right about now, and puts his hand on the old fucker's arm.

"We'd look after it, Mr. Dickinson," he says.

It should be fucking corny, but somehow it's not. He means it, and the old buzzard knows it, because suddenly his eyes start to swim.

I look away.


 

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Justin


I don't know if I should have said that, because now Mr. Dickinson looks really upset. But then he pats my hand.

"Dan," he reminds me.

I smile at him.

"So … can you close in that time or not?" he asks. He still has his hand over mine, but he's looking at Brian.

Brian was looking down at the solar panels, but he turns and looks into Dan's eyes.

Then he nods.

I have to stop myself shouting out loud with delight, but I must have made some noise, because they both turn to look at me. Brian has his tongue stuck into his cheek, but his eyes are bright and Dan is smiling.

"The realtors had all sorts of surveys done on the place – to prove that it's structurally sound and isn't going to slide down into the river any day soon," Dan says briskly, ushering us up the steps in front of him.

I move ahead of him, but Brian insists on waiting till Dan has started up, pretending to take one more look at the solar panels. I hope Dan doesn't realize that it's really because Brian wants to be there in case Dan slips or something. Hardly anyone else would pick up on it; but Dan … I don't know. But if he does, the way Brian's done it means that he doesn't have to acknowledge it; and when Brian stops half way up to ask him something about the boat, they both stop and look down towards it, so that gives Dan the chance to pause for a minute to get his breath back before tackling the rest of the stairs.

It makes me want to throw myself into Brian's arms and hug him to let him know how onto him I am, and how much things like that say to me about him, but I can't make any fuss about it without doing exactly what Brian is being so careful not to do and hurting Dan's pride, so I just go on up the stairs and then, when they're still a while behind me, I go back into the house and once more stare up at the windows that Billy designed.

They're not representative in any way. I mean, they're not pictures of things or people, but there seem to me to be two interwoven themes. One theme, mainly along the bottom and towards the right hand side, is expressed in fairly stark straight line sections in deep shades of blue and green, red and purple. The other theme, straying across the top and down the left side, is expressed more in curved shapes and the colors are lighter – vivid, but airier, less solid. Here there are swirls of pale blue, bright green, yellow and even pink.

But as the two themes meet, they gradually merge, so that the lighter colors and drifting shapes are given solidity and weight and a firm foundation, while the heavy qualities of the first theme are lifted and made buoyant by the lighter shades, and the stark edges are softened into curves. Right at the center there is a small shape that could almost be an elongated heart, or, I realize with a grin, a slightly curved inverted phallus in a vibrant, almost pulsing, scarlet.

Dan and Brian, after stopping a few moments on the deck outside the windows to continue their discussion on price, come in now and I find myself blurting out, "It's you, isn't it? You and Billy."

Brian raises a 'wtf' eyebrow, but Dan, after a long intent look at me, nods very slowly and then smiles, really smiles, and I see the relief and gratitude in his eyes even before he speaks.

"Yes," he says softly. "Yes."

And that's when I really know that he's right. The house has been waiting for us.

Because it's Brian and I as well.


 

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Brian


By the time we leave the house I don't know whether to smack the little shit sitting next to me or … something else. Not content with flirting outrageously with that old fossil, he's invited him to come out to dinner with us one night next week.

Twat!

The old bastard had actually asked Justin to dinner at the house. Or us. Maybe. I'm not sure whether I was included or not. I'd sort of tuned out while they nattered away over yet another coffee and more fucking cookies. When I came to, Justin was insisting that he be our guest for dinner instead. At least the little fucker didn't invite dear old Dan over to the loft.

Although I guess I wouldn't mind him seeing it; let him know we're not currently living in some dump. But I heard Sunshine telling the old reprobate about the house, the one we're selling; the one I bought for him, to convince him …

I glance across the car at him, and he grins back at me.

"If you fuck the waiter, you are seriously looking for trouble," he tells me.

I grunt a laugh, and have to fight back a silly fucking smile, as his hand comes across to rest lightly on my thigh. Whatever I was trying to convince him of back then, he's here now, so somewhere along the way, I must have fucking succeeded.

For maybe the first time in my life I feel … I feel okay.

This thing we have mightn't last. There are no fucking guarantees. But for the first time I feel like that's okay. That I can face that risk. Because I don't have to hold my breath waiting for him to realize what everyone's been telling him since day one – that I'm a total asshole and he'd be better off without me.

For the first time, really, I feel like that's not true. He wouldn't be. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not next week, or next month. Maybe not ever. That what we have is good. It's good enough for him, which means it's actually fucking fabulous. And I can accept that I've helped make that happen. Helped make us happen. So I can't be the total fuck up everyone thinks that I am where relationships are concerned. Which means that maybe it is fucking okay if he plans on making a future with me, that it doesn't mean he's selling himself short if he does that.

"Brian," he says, breaking in on my thoughts thank God, before I become a total pussy and start saying any of that stuff out loud. Anyway, he's been totally onto me all day, so I wait for him to say some ridiculously fucking romantic thing to let me know he feels the same way, and then I won't have to say anything, I can just grunt my usual charming agreement.

"I'm hungry," he says.

Little shit!


 

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Justin


He gives me one of those 'you have to be fucking kidding me' looks and then he grins.

I should have known right away that was a bad sign.

"Let's go then, Sunshine," he says.

Before I know what he's up to, he's turned the car and is heading towards Liberty Avenue.

I find myself freezing up. I don't know if I'm ready for this yet. Things have been good, better than good, better than wonderful, without all of them being involved. I don't want to …

I sneak a glance at him. He pulls up at a set of lights and looks across at me. Then his hand snakes out to cup the back of my neck. He gives it a squeeze, then the lights change so he lets go and turns to face the road again.

"Might as well get it over with," he says.

I take a deep breath and nod. He's right. The longer we leave it, the worse it will be. Especially if Deb finds out I've been in town for days and haven't even called her.

He kind of pushes in front of me as we walk in. It's late afternoon, so even the stragglers from the lunch crowd have left, and the dinner crowd aren't in yet. There's no sign of Deb. Or of Michael. But Ted and Emmett are there, sitting in the usual booth.

Brian moves to the table and slides in next to Ted, and it's not till he's just about sitting down that Emmett sees me. He gives a squeal and jumps up, grabbing hold of me and hugging me almost as hard as Debbie would. I'm just about suffocating when I hear Brian growl, "Don't make me have to get up again, Emmett."

Ted snorts, not sure if that's because he's read a double meaning into what Brian has said, or whether he's still amused by Brian's attitude to Emmett hugging me. I guess that is funny. I mean, for a long time, Brian was happy to watch me fucking other guys, but let Em come near me with a hug and Brian was all 'hands off'. I guess it's kinda nice to know that some things haven't changed.

Emmett makes some lame attempt to get Brian to swap seats which Brian just shakes off, so I push Em back into his seat and sit next to him, opposite Brian. And Ted.

As I watch the little look Ted gives Brian, and am trying to work out exactly what it means, Em asks The Questions – the ones about when I got here, and more importantly, how long I'm staying.

I watch Brian steal a fry from Ted's plate, and see how relaxed he is, compared to Ted who's tense and seems to be … not giving me the evil eye, but certainly not accepting my presence with the unqualified approval Emmett is showing either, and I feel a wash of gratitude steal over me. Because it's clear that Ted is concerned about what my visit might mean for Brian. That's he's worried about Brian.

Which means that he's gone right on being Brian's friend while I've been gone.

That's something that you can't really judge from a distance. I mean, Brian never says much about anything, let alone telling me how Ted's been supporting him. But I can tell he has. Not just because he's clearly worried about my "visit", but because of how easy Brian is with him.

He steals another fry now, not in the 'let's goad Theodore' way he once might have, but in the happy, teasing way he would once have used with … with Michael.

When Em asks the million dollar, 'how long are you in town for?' question, I try to catch Brian's eye. He leans back and grins at me, chomping into his fry with wicked precision.

I raise an eyebrow at him, trying to work out how much he thinks I should tell them. He sticks his tongue in his cheek, clearly leaving it to me – a sort of private truth or dare.

I take the dare and tell the truth.

"I've come home," I say. "I'm staying."

Emmett gives a squeal and wraps his arms around me in an awkward lop-sided hug, undeterred by Brian's suddenly stern glare. Until Brian reaches across the table and flicks his hand hard with one long finger.

Then Emmett laughs and lets go.

Ted moves his eyes from Brian's profile to smile at me.

"I'm glad, Justin," he says.

We share a look in which he tries to tell me not to fuck Brian around any more, and I try to let him know that I'm not about to, that this time I'm home for good.

Then Emmett pipes up, "So when are you going to move into the mansion? You can give a faaabulous housewarming party."

Brian gives me a private grin and drawls, "Not going to happen."

When Em opens his mouth to protest (because the thought of giving up that faaabulous party is obviously totally not acceptable in Em World), Brian cuts him off.

"We've sold it," he says simply.


 

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Brian


I'm watching his face when I say it, so I see his eyes light up. They look into mine for a moment and then he looks away; he's smiling and if I didn't know better I'd say he's almost blushing.

It takes me a second, but then I get it.

"We've sold it."

We.

'We' made that decision. Just like 'we' decided to buy the new house.

I feel that I should be more freaked out by that than I am. Instead, it feels like such a fucking relief.

For so long, I made my decisions, and he made his, and, looking back it doesn't seem like there were that many good ones. The good things mainly just happened when we weren't making any real fucking decisions at all.

And all the time, there weren't very many that I can remember us making together. Maybe what fucking toilet paper to buy, or what take out to order.

I guess it's all too fucking ironic that the first real decision I can remember us making together was to call off the wedding.

But that, and all that drove it, all that came from it, are gone now. Over. He's home. And today we've made two huge fucking decisions together. We've decided to sell the place I bought – even if it was for him. And buy something that's ours.

It's not a matter of who pays for what that will make the new place "ours". It's a matter of who makes the decisions.

I know that's what's put that light in his eyes. And if I'm honest, I feel pretty fucking good about it myself.

Meanwhile, our friends – and they are that, I have to reluctantly admit – are just about having a cow trying to figure out what selling his damned mansion means. They're afraid to say anything in case selling our fucking "honeymoon home" is some huge symbol of what's going on between us.

Well, it is. But not the way they think.

I leave them hanging for a moment, until he looks up at me again, his eyes with a question in them now. I grin at him, and he smiles back. I feel a wave of … well, some corny fucking emotion sweep over me as it hits me all over again that he really is home.

Yeah, selling that place is a symbol alright. It's a symbol for the end of that bullshit phase of our lives – abandoned fucking weddings, and living on the other side of the damned country (well, too fucking far away, anyway).

But the new place is an even bigger symbol. It's a sign that we're going to do this. We're going to make it happen; we're finally going to let us happen. On our own terms, in our own way, we're going to fucking make it work. We're going to have a life together.

I let myself smile at him in a way I just don't fucking do in public.

"You can organize some fabulous do at the new place," I say. "Once we've moved in there."


 

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Justin


I can't get the smile off my face for a long while after that.

Emmett starts to get all emotional just at the look on Brian's face, but, thank God, he stops himself, and instead gets all hyper over the new place, wanting to know all about it, and how we found it, and when we decided.

Brian lets me describe the place, and while I'm telling Emmett about the jacuzzi, and the pool, he talks quietly to Ted. I hear Ted gasp, "They upped it by how much?" so I know Brian's talking finance to him. I keep Em occupied by describing the house, although I don't tell him anything about the windows or that amazing back room – I want that to come as a surprise to everyone. I want to see the looks on their faces when they walk in there for the first time.

Eventually, Brian drawls something about the jacuzzi room even having filtered glass so I won't fry while I'm boiling (which is just so lame), so I know he's finished talking money to Ted. Emmett oohs and ahs some more and then we figure that it's about time somebody came to take our order. (You can tell Deb's not working.)

Brian's glare finally gets some attention and we all order. Brian just sighs loudly when I order pancakes, but that doesn't stop him helping himself to some once they arrive. I swear he figures that anything that doesn't actually come from his plate doesn't count, weight wise. Not that he needs to worry, he's still what my Mom thinks is too skinny.

While we eat, we're all still just catching up on all the goss, and it's all very relaxed and comfortable and familiar. It makes me feel even more happy to be home, because I realize that I've missed this as well, although I maybe didn't know how much till right now. It was hard to consider anything other than how much I missed Brian; there just wasn't room enough on my pain meter to register anything else.

But then Ted says something that just shatters that feeling of comfort and the conversation stops dead.

"Have you seen Michael yet?" he asks.
 

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