Acknowledging Fears

Chapter 13

After dining, they walked out to the Corvette and Brian said, "You need to do anything today? Stop by the Institute?"

Shaking his head, Justin climbed into the passenger seat. "What did you have in mind, cowboy?" The image of Brian in nothing but leather chaps was mouthwatering and he forcibly put the image out of his mind.

"You know, it'll be you riding me, Sunshine."

Once on the road, Brian headed north, leaving Justin curious as to their destination. Brian was remarkably closemouthed not even complaining when Justin hit on a rock station playing Christina. And then Britney.

When they pulled up to a cemetery several miles outside of town, Justin's curiosity was peaked.

"Get out."

Justin did so, noticing that a darkness had settled over Brian. It was nearly visible. Odd that. He saw the Celtic cross over the hill and realized where they were. He wondered if he was the first person Brian had ever brought here and knew that he was. That this was a monumental thing Brian was sharing with him.

He followed Brian over the rise and they approached the grave in silence. Justin noticed the marker read:

Sabrina Miranda Kinney Peterson, Beloved Daughter.

April 18, 1992-April 18, 1992.

Love, Lindsay and Brian (Mom and Dad)

There were some words below in Gaelic that Justin knew he'd have to have Brian translate. There was a bouquet of irises and lilies next to the grave and Brian wondered for a moment who'd brought them. No one knew about Sabrina except him and Lindsay, and now Justin and Daphne. There was the old caretaker who received a monthly check to make sure the ground surrounding the grave was carefully maintained. But Brian doubted he'd have done that. So it had to have been Lindsay.

Justin remained silent as Brian sank down on the grass beside the headstone. "Hi, baby girl. It's your daddy. You'd be thirteen today. A teenager. You have a little brother named Gus. My partner, Justin, named him. He was there the night Gus was born. So little and tiny. You would love him. Anyway, I own my own ad agency now."

He was aware of the fact that his voice was trembling. He knew that he very rarely made the trip out here because it got to him so much. "Your grandfather is up there and Great-Grandpa Liam. You're being watched over by the archangels, baby girl. I hope Pop is being nice to you. He didn't know about you, of course. I couldn't tell him. I held you, you know. You were so precious and so tiny. I could hardly believe you were real. That your mom and I played some small part in creating something so perfect.

"Your mom and I didn't get married. She's married to a woman named Melanie, who doesn't like me very much. But that's okay because I don't like her much either. Melanie is pregnant with my best friend Michael's baby. It's like a soap opera down here, sweet angel. I'm sorry that you aren't a part of it. I miss you. I love you, baby girl."

His voice caught on the last word and he heard a stifled sob from above on the rise. He and Justin looked up and saw Lindsay silhouetted on the hill. "Lindz," Brian called, lumbering to his feet.

She walked down the hill, a little unsteady on heels that were just a tad bit ridiculous for wear in a cemetery. Why do women do that to themselves? "Brian," she said, as she took his hand as he helped her down.

Justin moved a little ways off leaving the two some privacy. "I needed to come visit her."

"You don't need to explain. She was your daughter too."

"I held her, you know," Brian said. He watched as Lindsay's eyes filled with tears.

"Yeah, I know. You had the hard part. You saw our baby girl and then had to make all the hard decisions. I couldn't have done everything you did."

"It was hard on me too," he admitted.

"I know, Bri. I think everyone just forgets that you have feelings and emotions. That you're not an automaton."

Brian smiled slightly. "I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye to Gus last night."

"It's okay. He slept all the way home. He didn't even ask me for a goodnight story. You'll make it up to him."

"I should have told you when I got the diagnosis. I was going through so much shit and I didn't know how."

Lindsay nodded, taking his hand. "Is that why you kicked Justin out? Taking a breather?"

"Lindz, I kicked him out and told him we were no longer partners. It wasn't so much a breather as me losing my shit. Not trusting Justin, or in us. I lost it so bad that I told him to get the fuck out of Kinnetik, that I'd get a restraining order."

He watched the color drain out of her face, her eyes growing wide. "I thought that was just a euphemism. That you hated the phrase lovers and preferred partners." Then, "You threatened to get a restraining order?"

"Not my best moment, Lindz. I was in pain, not exactly thinking rationally. You, of all people, know how I am." His voice had grown quiet. "I had paperwork drawn up. I changed my will. Hell, I even opened a new life insurance policy with Justin as the beneficiary. That's not to say we'll be marching down an aisle in matching Armani's but it's pretty fucking real. I just haven't had the chance to talk to him about it yet. And I'd appreciate you not saying anything about this to anyone. Give me some time."

"So it's not just so Justin can get insurance coverage and inherit?" She'd never heard Brian quite like this.

He struggled not to give full rein to his anger, remembering where he was. "No, it's not just for show. I wouldn't do something fraudulent. I put a lot of thought into this, Lindz. I went to an attorney and everything. I want him taken care of if the cancer recurs. If I die, I don't want to leave him without anything."

"What's the chance of that happening?"

"Between 1%-3%. It might be slightly higher because my dad died of cancer."

"His was a different kind though."

"Yeah, but it runs in families, Lindz. You know that. Didn't your aunt die of breast cancer?"

She nodded. "It could've been worse."

"How do you figure that?" Try as he might and he didn't try too hard, he couldn't imagine a worse thing than him losing a ball.

"It could've been prostate cancer."

Like I hadn't thought about that, Brian thought, silently. If it had been, there's no fucking way that I wouldn't have hung myself. Given myself the greatest fucking orgasm of my life and then gone out like Michael Hutchence. Being who he was, Brian had experienced dark, deep depressions and suicidal tendencies. The most recent being when Justin had left him. Then he'd realized that he had things worth living for. "Thanks for that, Lindz. You always know how to put things in perspective."

"Shit, Bri. I'm sorry. It's just you're still able to fuck. And that's the most important thing to you, right?"

For someone who assumed she knew him so well, she didn't have a clue. "For your information, I'm currently impotent. Can't fuck Justin or jack off to save my life." Ouch, bad phrasing. "Do you know what it's like having a very nubile twenty-year-old living in my loft, walking around naked with a cock that makes one salivate? I want to suck his cock, Lindz. I want to have him ride me, watch his face when I take him to the breaking point."

No, she couldn't relate, Lindsay thought, feeling her face grow warm. "So why can't you get it up?"

Trust Lindsay to come to the heart of the matter. "I think it's more psychological than physical. After all, I still have a morning hard-on. But it doesn't last long enough for me to get it into the gate." What's with all the cowboy analogies, Kinney? You're a Yankee, for Christ's sake. "And I think it's hard on Justin too. Poor kid's been forced to jerk off alone for the last two mornings."

"So why don't you just go down on him?"

Brian stared at her. Seemed Melanie's laissez faire attitude about sex was rubbing off on her. Brian wasn't sure he liked that side of Lindsay. "Uh, because he feels guilty. Like it's not fair for him to be getting satisfaction when I have a terminal case of blue balls."

"Well, he can still rim you and fuck you, right?"

"Jesus, Lindz. You truly have no idea what it's like to be a gay man. It sends me into orbit when I can achieve orgasm, much less when I have no outlet for release."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Then it occurred to him, "You know this really is an inappropriate place for us to be having a conversation about my sex life."

She giggled, a surprisingly girlish sound that sounded like bells ringing. "Yeah, it is. I brought some Gerbera daisies for Sabrina. Think Bree would have liked them?"

Brian nodded. "You know I would've married you."

"You never asked."

"No, I never asked. Lindsay, I suggested. You know if we'd gotten married we'd have hated each other within six months. Our friendship would have been fucked. I'd have been fucking guys on the side, bringing tricks home, and you'd have been dying for cunnilingus, hitting the dyke bars. It wouldn't have been fair to either of us or to her. It wouldn't have been fair to her, Lindz. And the one thing we agreed on was that we wanted a better life for our daughter than we had. Given her a childhood that neither one of us had. We owed her that."

"You're right."

She glanced at him. "It wasn't our fault, Bri. Just wasn't meant to be."

She strode past him, noticing Justin off in the distance. "He looks like Little Boy Lost out there," she remarked.

Brian glanced at where she was looking. "He's been amazing through this. You know, despite what everyone thinks, our relationship is not just about fucking. We do talk to each other. It's just that we work things out better in bed." It's where we are the most comfortable.

Setting the daisies by the Celtic cross, Lindsay kissed him on the cheek. "You're a good man."

"Promise not to tell," Brian said, the words reminding him of something he'd once said in an entirely different context. He wondered if his mother had ever figured out that her preacher was a sodomite. Probably not. She was too fucking busy falling into a sherry bottle.

"I've got to get back to work," she said. "You taking the day off?"

"Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night. I fell asleep with my head in his lap." He met her gaze directly. "Don't tell anyone that."

Despite the fact she thought it was cute she knew he was deadly serious. She brushed a hand over the cross and said, "I love you, Bri."

"I know." Oddly enough, there was no cynicism or arrogance in the comment. He did know that she loved him.

As Lindsay walked up the hill, Brian wandered out to where Justin was. He laid a hand on his partner's shoulder and said, "You ready to go?"

"Look at this, Brian. This headstone is from 1778. Our country was in its infancy. Just coming out from under colonization, establishing its own worth separate from Britain."

"No Bush. No Reagan," he quipped.

Justin turned to him, expression serious. "No fags. You think the Republicans would like to go back to that period of time?"

Brian snorted. "You think they'd give up their Mercedes Benz SUVs and laptop computers and interests in Dell or Microsoft? Hell no."

Justin decided it wasn't prudent to remind Brian that he was once again in that tax bracket. Then he felt Brian's arm go around him.

"Justin, there have always been fags. We just haven't always been despised and reviled and seen as an abomination. Remember the period of ancient Greece and Rome? Homosexuality was a norm. It's only recently that it's been seen as a violation of the norms and mores of society. Think of the Native American cultures where the shamans were gay men or eunuchs or men who dressed as women. They were revered. You think those Roman soldiers batted an eyelash when some commandant said bend over or ordered them to suck a general's cock. It wasn't a big deal. The bathhouses were full of guys fucking. You do what you have to do depending on the circumstances. Those soldiers out on march had no choice. It was either fuck another guy or jerk off every night. Which would you rather do? And the orgies weren't just about guys fucking some woman's snatch. Those orgies back then would make our swinging parties look tame by comparison. Don't ever be ashamed of who or what you are."

"You know, Ethan's agent wanted him to deny he was gay. Deny he had a male lover."

As much as Brian hated discussing the fiddler, he knew Justin had a point. He was even willing to let the blond get to it. "Yeah," he said, encouraging him to elaborate.

"What pissed me off the most is that Ethan didn't seem to give a shit that I nearly got killed coming out of the closet. And now some asshole wanted me to go back in. Damned if I'll ever do that. I'm proud of who I am. I'm not ashamed that I like dick, specifically yours. I'd rather drink arsenic than fuck another woman. And I like the taste and smell and texture of cock. Particularly yours."

Brian smirked. That's my boy. "Is that why you started making stuff with pineapples, Sunshine?"

Justin smiled. "Well, haven't you noticed that we both taste better?"

Brian had, so he was willing to concede the point. "Yeah, I've noticed. You've always tasted good but now it's even better."

He wrapped both arms around Justin, pulling him tight against him. "Let's go home. We have an appointment at three-thirty."

That had Justin pulling back from him. "We have an appointment. What kind?"

"With Dr. Jameson." Brian sighed. "My psychiatrist."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I just told you."

"Brian," Justin began. He had hated the last experience he'd had with a psychiatrist. Granted it had been with his mother but he had no desire to repeat the endeavor.

"Miranda's great. And I need to go do this. Justin, it's important."

"Miranda?" Justin asked, eyes narrowing. Since when was Brian on a first name basis with a shrink? And Alex didn't count. He'd been a former trick.

"I've known Miranda since I was five. She's the first girl who ever felt me up." Strange thing for a gay man to be proud of but he was. "She's a damn good psychiatrist and I need this fucking appointment. And I want you to go with me."

"Okay, okay. Simmer down, Mufasa. I'll go."

"Sunshine, I don't want you to sulk the entire time. This is the first time that I've brought someone in on a session."

"How long have you been seeing her?"

"Off and on since you got bashed. She helped me with my guilt and abandonment issues. And she was there when you left me for the fiddler. And she was there when I got the diagnosis. She squeezed me in at six o'clock in the morning. She's a damn good friend."

Justin simply nodded. "Let's go home."

Brian tightened his arms around Justin. As they started up the hill, he felt a breeze pick up, and he'd swear it felt like delicate fingers brushed his cheek. When he looked back down the hill at his daughter's grave, he was startled to see a figure dressed in a white eighteenth-century dressing gown looking up at him, with hair of gold. No fucking way, he thought blinking. Then he saw her wave. Since he'd been seeing Vic as spiritual guide which struck him as way too Castaneda, Brian was willing to entertain the thought that his daughter was a guardian angel of sorts for him. That was a bit more palatable than Vic as his own personal Dalai Lama.

"Let's go home, Sonny Boy." He glanced back and saw that the apparition, for it was clearly that, had dissipated. He was a little more shaken than he wished to admit.

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