The Beatles Trilogy

Just to Dance with You

Notes: This is the last part of a trilogy based on the Improv #3 challenge to write a fic based on the lyrics to a song from the Hard Day's Night album by the Beatles. It's a gapfiller really for ep 309

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Justin

In some ways it's like a fantasy, like the dreams I've had over and over in the past weeks. I'm in Babylon, the lights are shining, the music is loud, the beat heavy and insistent, and I'm dancing with Brian. Usually, just as he leans in close, I wake up, alone, and find tears already threading down my face.

But this time when he leans close, I reach up and run my fingers through hair so soft and fine that I would know it anywhere for Brian's. Just as I would know the smell of him and the feel of his skin against mine. I'd know them anywhere. And they're right here. I look up and our eyes meet and it's all I can do not to simply fall into his arms and beg him to take me somewhere and fuck me senseless. But I wait.

Later that will happen.

For now, this is enough.

Lately, since I pushed myself back into his life - well, into his bed, we've never stopped being part of each other's lives - lately, like I said, Brian has been playing these weird old Beatles songs. He seems stuck on them for some reason, which is so not like him. He says that they're considering using some of them in an ad, but I don't know. I guess they're alright. One of them is the song he sang to Gus that night, the night I knew that it was worth trying to get him back.

He told me then that he started singing it to Gus to make sure that his son knew Brian was always there if he wanted him. So now whenever Gus gets upset he wants to hear Brian sing him the song. "Any Time at All" I think it's called.

But there's another song on that cd, one that I really kind of like, because in some ways it makes me think of me and Brian. It's called "I'm Happy Just to Dance With You" and it's kinda corny, and I'd never ever admit to anyone, especially Brian, that I think it's like us, but …

Somehow, there have been really key moments in what I try very hard not to call our relationship that have involved dancing. Times when we've really connected.

I guess the biggest one was the Prom Dance, and it kills me that I can't remember it. I sometimes get sort of flashes, but never the whole thing. Chris Hobbs stole that from me and it's the one thing I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for. I remember Brian and Daphne trying to recreate it for me, but that's actually a really painful memory. I was so scared and clumsy. Daphne has described it for me though, the real dance, over and over. She says it's the most beautiful and romantic thing she's ever seen. Maybe that's why I pushed Brian so hard over the romance stuff, because I felt so cheated that he'd given me this wonderful romantic moment and I couldn't even remember it.

I guess the problem was that, for Brian, the outcome of that moment of romance was so horrible it took away any chance there ever was of turning him into a romantic, or even a boyfriend who did romantic things. Chris Hobbs stole that from me too. From Brian. From us And I think that the fact that I couldn't even remember it somehow made it even worse for Brian. It should have been a moment that we'd share forever, but my memory loss left him alone with all the joy as well as the pain, and nothing to do with those feelings except cover them up like he usually does.

But there have been other moments that I remember very clearly. Especially right now, when we're swaying so close together and everything is just right in my world.

There was that first time I came to Babylon. I was so scared I had to bring Daphne with me for moral support - how girly is that? But then I saw Brian with those two guys and something in me just said, "Don't put up with that shit. You're hotter than them. Go for it."

So I did. I didn't even think about it. I hadn't even realised I'd stripped off my shirt on the way until later, when Daph gave it back to me before Brian took me back to the loft.

I was a bit scared when the two guys started moving in so close. If Brian hadn't come to claim me I don't know what I would have done. But he did.

I'll never forget how he looked at me that night. Not just that he wanted me, not just that I was some sort of prize he'd had to claim from those others, but like he was actually pleased with me, proud of me. He lifted me clear up off the ground and held me up in the air like I was a trophy. But all the time he was smiling at me, and I knew that somehow, even if just for that moment, I'd made him really, really happy. After that, I wanted him to always look at me like that.

There were so many other dances. The night I was trying to decide about Dartmouth and Brian told me I could never go back. He talked about our first night together and I couldn't believe how much he remembered. He is such a shit. He really had made me believe that he couldn't remember even my name, and all the time he'd remembered just about every detail. Just like I had. But it wasn't really what he said that night. It was the way he said it; hell! to some extent it was the fact that he said it at all. But the way he said it, the way he looked straight into my eyes while he spoke to me - no bullshit, no walls, no pretences - just Brian being as open and direct as I've ever known him to be. I think that was when I knew for the first time that he cared about me. I might have given him shit when he let slip that he was rattled by the idea of me going out of state to college, but I knew that just could have been that he'd be losing a fuck buddy. This was about me; about Brian caring enough to do his best to make sure I didn't mess things up for myself. We danced to Forever Young, that night, and the lights shone on the glitter as it fell around us and on his beautiful face, and it could hardly have been more appropriate. He always will be young and beautiful to me, because that's how I think of him. How I'll always think of him. How I'll always see him.

Then, after the bashing, when I was trying to get my life back together, and so grateful to Brian for his help, there was Pride. After all my drama princess routine over not wanting to go, and how patient he was with all that, I figured the least I could do was to go home and let him enjoyed what was left of Pride without having to baby sit me. So I left him to his wicked ways. But he followed me. "Hey, stud! Want to dance?"

Up until the other night in Brian's office, I had never heard anything more wonderful in my life. When he smiled at me and promised that I wouldn't forget this one, he made me want to melt into his arms and stay there forever. He was right, too. I won't ever forget it. Well, I guess I did for a while, or I wouldn't have fallen for Ethan's bullshit. But I won't forget again in a hurry.

Of course there was also the night we danced at Babylon and set all those stupid rules. In one way, that should have all been pretty wonderful, should have shown me that Brian really wanted to be with me. But somehow it all got muddled up in my head and instead somewhere inside I still felt like maybe he didn't, maybe it just seemed like he should do something to make me stay 'cause I needed to be there. That's when we really started to go wrong I think. I don't know. I don't really want to think about that any more. Especially right now.

Right now, the music is thumping loudly out there somewhere; somewhere outside the little bubble of light that contains Brian and I and nothing and no one else. The beat seems to be some sort of Latin dance mix, but we're here, in our own little bubble, and we're swaying to our own rhythms and soon they will build to a crescendo and we'll head for the back room. But for now, as our bodies move together with such easy familiarity and our hands stray everywhere, reclaiming what once was lost, this is enough.

"In this world there's nothing I would rather do,

'cause I'm happy just to dance with you."

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Brian

"I'm so happy when you dance with me."

The words of that stupid song go through my head even as Justin is moving closer in my arms and tangling his fingers in my hair. It's my own fault, of course. I keep playing the fucking cd. I don't know why. Well, in some ways I do. It's so dumb, but it feels like it's lucky for me or something. I don't know. After how it made me feel before, you'd think I'd never want to hear it again.

But now that he's back, now that I'm safely in his arms again … Now that he's safely in my arms again, I mean. Only I don't. I mean now that I'm safe in his arms again because that's how it feels. Like I'm safe when he holds me, like being with him is shield and armour and ten foot thick walls around us that nobody can break down to hurt me ever again. I should be scared shitless to feel like that. But, funnily enough, I'm not. I just feel …safe.

Anyway, now that he's back … when I hear the songs now, they don't hurt anymore. In some way they make me feel relieved. It's as if I'd been really sick or hurt in some way and had to go through this terribly painful treatment, but now that it's over, maybe I can heal. God, it must be the dope in the air in here getting to me. I haven't had that much to drink.

Whatever the reason, I'm still playing the cd. I have to bullshit to Justin about using one of the songs for an ad, but I think they're starting to get to him too. He's beginning to sing along if I have the cd on in the car.

"I just want to dance with you all night."

And now, as I'm back here dancing with Justin, with my beautiful Sunshine, mine; now that song is going through my head and as I look down into those eyes I could happily drown in, I can't help but remember the first time we danced together. That was at Babylon too. I guess he played me that night too. I should have known then that I'd more than met my match. I can't believe it took me so long to figure it out. Or at least, to admit it.

I'd told him: 'I've had you. I don't do repeats.' But he made me eat my words; for the first time, but I'm sure we're a long way yet from seeing the last. Unless I wake up to myself at least, and stop trying to bullshit my way through things with him, because he'll call me on it every time. That's one of the things I … appreciate … about him. Alright, it's one of the things I love about him. I just need to be careful even thinking that word around him. I'm not sure that I'm ready to say it yet, if ever. And sometimes I think he can pick things straight out of my brain.

He came towards me that night, all glowing and golden with glitter in his hair, and shining on his pale skin, and, let's face it, he was a walking fucking wet dream. I'm not surprised those two guys went after him. I'd be surprised if half the losers there didn't come in their pants just at the sight of him.

But there was no way anyone but me was going to have him that night. I just stalked in and staked my claim and then there was only Justin and I. I remember lifting him over my head and just laughing up at him in sheer delight at his beauty and his courage and because he wanted me. It was the first time in a long long time that I'd felt flattered that someone wanted to be with me. With everyone else it was pretty much a matter of course. But not with him. Never, really, with him. I know everyone, including Justin, thought I took him for granted but I never did. That wasn't the problem. It was just the opposite really - I took for granted that one day he'd stop wanting me, and I couldn't just go along with the love thing and wait for that to happen. I had to pretend that it didn't matter, that he didn't matter. So that when that day came, I could escape with my pride, at least, intact.

Yeah, pathetic. I know that now. But then, it actually seemed to make sense. Of course, part of the deal was that no one could ever know that that's what was going on in my head. I'm all too good at putting up a front, and even Justin never seemed to see through that one. Oh, they all knew that he mattered to me, they saw through that part. But they still all thought I took his admiration, his love, for granted. And I never did. Not for a moment. I just didn't believe it would last, is all. So instead of making the most of every moment of it, I spent all my time trying to pretend that I never wanted it anyway, as if that could make it hurt less when I lost it. So stupid. One of the many mistakes I'll try not to make again.

I hunker down the way I like to do when we're dancing so that our eyes are on the same level. He's got the same slightly giddy look on his face that I'm sure is on mine and, you know what, I don't give a stuff. He's here, and his hands are stroking down my arms and then over my hips and mine are roaming over any bare bit of skin I can find on his body. Soon, soon, I'll want more than this; soon, we'll both need more than this; but for now, this is wonderful, this is like a long cool drink on a hot hot day when you feel that you've been about to die from thirst.

"Before this dance is through,

I think I'll love you too,

I'm so happy when you dance with me."

Even now, I don't know why I went to his Prom. It was a question I asked myself over and over, and God knows, everyone else asked it too. But I don't really know.

All that I do know is that once I was there, once I saw him looking so beautiful, so handsome, in that damned tux, once I started to dance with him, what I did know was that I was falling in love with him. By the time the dance was through, I'd fallen. Damn! that does sound like that fucking song. But it's true. It had probably been happening for months. But for me, it happened that night. That's when I knew it. And I was happier than I'd ever been, and hardly scared at all. Which is truly ironic, when you think of how it ended.

Over the last months, while Justin was gone, I had time to work out a lot of what went wrong in those months after the bashing, after he moved in with me.

I've done some reading, and realised that he was going through a lot of stuff, not just with this hand, which I could help with, but inside, in his head and emotionally, which I couldn't help with much at all. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder they call it. It's pretty common after that sort of "incident". He needed help. And he didn't get it. Of course, the other part of our problem was that so did I.

I'd never want to admit that of course, and I still can't see how going to some bullshit therapist is going to help. Me, that is. Not Justin. If Justin wanted to do that I'd be with him all the way. But for me, just understanding what the deal was has helped a lot. The more I read about it, the more things began to make sense to me.

I guess one thing was that it sort of turned me off romance. My first effort didn't exactly end well. But it also brought back all those fears about losing Justin, about Justin leaving me. Funnily enough, it's hard to watch someone you love half-killed in front of you without starting to have thoughts about losing them. Not to mention the time, the uncountable aeons, that he was in the coma.

So, aside from staying away from him in the hospital, because there was nothing I could do for him and the terror that I felt every time I looked at him, every time any one looked at him, nearly choked me; aside from all that, when I did get him back, when he moved back in with me, that's when things got really weird for me.

See, he needed me. He really did. I was the only one who could make him feel safe, the one who could make him work on his hand, work to get his art back. Hell, I was the only one who could get him to walk down the fucking street. So I did. I worked on it all with him. And every day he got better. And every day he got closer to not needing me any more, closer to being able to do without me, closer to leaving me.

All the tricks and the date nights and the baths and the three ways? They were my pathetic attempts to stave off the inevitable. What does every gay boy want? Lots of sex, right? With lots of hot young men? So my brilliant plan, although I didn't really understand at the time that this was true, was to make sure that Sunshine got all the hot sex he could handle, with as many guys as he wanted, and tried to make sure that as often as possible I was involved as well. That way, he'd never have to leave me to get what every gay boy wants. Brilliant, Kinney. Full marks. Right.

There were so many ways that little fantasy could have come crashing down it's not even worth while thinking about it. The one that basically brought it completely undone was the most obvious. Justin wasn't just any other gay boy.

You'd think I'd have figured that one out. It's the fucking reason I fell for him in the first place. So what most gay boys might have wanted was pretty irrelevant where Justin was concerned. It sure as hell wasn't what he wanted.

Mind you, even if I'd figured that out a lot earlier than I did, I think we'd still have crashed and burned. Like I said, we both had a lot of baggage with us. I've cleared out some of mine, I hope. Maybe he has too.

It feels really different this time. This time he isn't a bright little twinkie, or a battered waif. This time he's a man, pure and simple. My man. For what that's worth.

And we're back here at Babylon, dancing together. I'll bet this is giving every queer in the place a hard on and something to gossip about for days. Stuff 'em.

His tongue is moving over his lips, and it's getting very close to the time that I'll grab his hand and drag him into the back room and ravish him. Like he'll be resisting.

But for now, I just want to spend a while longer dancing with him like this, with the glitter falling around us, and the lights bright on his pale hair and skin, and our bodies swaying together in a dance that we seemed destined to share forever.

"In this world there's nothing I would rather do.

I've discovered I'm in love with you,

'cause I'm happy just to dance with you."

Lyrics from "Just to Dance With You" by Lennon/McCartney

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