He shifted uncomfortably, casting his eyes around the waiting room for the hundredth time. Looking for the nurse who brought him updates. The surgeon to tell him everything had gone just fine. Or any one of a number of familiar faces that should be arriving any moment. He dreaded them as much as he needed them. The fear, worry and sadness in their words and expressions would make this painfully real. He couldn't retreat into the fantasy world he'd been building and rebuilding for the last few hours once they were here. But he knew he couldn't do this alone.
Justin stepped into the cold, shutting the metal door to the empty studio behind him. He fumbled with the keys in his gloved hands, cursing when he dropped them into a puddle of melting brown sludge.
"Shit," he said, pulling off a glove and reaching into the freezing water to retrieve them. Finally, he locked the door, then walked around to deposit the keys in the lockbox at the front of the building.
Brian was waiting for him on the curb.
"Brian, what are you doing here? I thought you couldn't come."
Brian smiled and kissed him. "This couldn't wait."
I can't believe Justin just confronted that jackass from his high school out there in front of everyone. And Brian? Stepping in like one of Puccini's heroes...Jesus, he actually seemed to care!
Now, inside Woody's, we're having a drink and Emmett and Justin are talking. I can only stare. Being around Justin this long gives me a hard-on; I usually avoid it. I'm equally jealous and turned on, but mostly I'm concerned. The star quarterback let Justin give him a handjob? Brian Kinney is practically his boyfriend?
Does this boy know with what sharp objects he's playing?
"I don't care if he is a narcissistic queen, Justin. He's the best in the fucking business and I want him." Brian turned off the television and walked into the kitchen. "He just said he and Ryan are moving towards out-of-state projects. Make the call."
Renovating Britin would be a challenge enough; but handling Brian Kinney and Jeff Lewis together was going to require a delicate balance of ass kissing, cock sucking, and migraine medication. The patience needed to referee the furniture arranging alone could qualify Justin for sainthood. It was going to be a very long 18 months.