InsaneJournal

Here and There
By Xie

Justin was so shocked he didn't even fasten his seat belt before Brian pulled out of the driveway. "You told Lindsay what?"

Brian took the corner near Debbie's house a little too fast, and Justin scrambled to buckle up. "I told her that we'd be glad to have a big, old-fashioned family Christmas at the house this year."

"Who are you?" Justin asked. "And what have you done with the man I have yet to marry despite repeated proposals and two rings gathering dust in a vault somewhere?"

Brian frowned. "They had fucking better not be gathering dust," he said, pulling into a parking place in front of Babylon. "Then again, they don't make vaults the way they used to."

Justin got out of the car and waited for Brian before heading up the stairs into the club. "No, really, why did you do it?"

"Why do I ever do anything Lindsay asks me to do?" he said, sighing heavily. "She has some kind of dark power over me."

Justin laughed. "Just don't give her any more sperm."

A couple of hours later, they were leaning against the bar, sipping beer and watching the crowd. Justin glanced around the club. "Not a bad turnout, considering it's Thanksgiving."

Brian shrugged. "I let Theodore count heads these days." He glanced at Justin. "What?"

Justin didn't answer right away. "Well," he said slowly, "I suppose my earlier question seems even more relevant now."

Brian finished the last of his beer, and gestured to the bartender for another. "And what question was that?"

"'Who are you, and what have you done with my,' etc. etc.," Justin said.

"Ah. That question." He put his hand on the back of Justin's neck and steered him toward the back room. "Let me think about it while you suck my dick."

Justin grinned and let himself be steered. "Better. Much better."

The usual marathon of sex that marked his visits home precluded further conversation, but when he was back in New York, Justin realized Brian had never answered his question.

____________________

Michael always liked to chatter to Ben about his day while he made dinner. Ben liked to sit at the table working, occasionally muttering something in response just to show he was aware Michael was there.

This time, he actually looked up from his laptop. "Brian invited everyone where for what?"

Michael nodded as he slid the pasta into the boiling water. "He wants all of us out to the house for Christmas. You, me, Hunter, Linds, Mel, the kids, Daphne, Jennifer, Debbie and Carl, Ted and Blake, Em, the whole gang."

"Huh." Ben turned back to his laptop for a minute, then took his glasses off and walked into the kitchen. "What do you suppose made him do that?"

Michael shrugged as Ben's arms slipped around him from behind. "Beats me. I guess it's part of some kind of mid-life crisis."

Ben laughed. "I'd really like to see Brian's face when you tell him that."

Michael pulled up a strand of capellini and let it drop back in the water. Then he frowned and turned around to face Ben. "You don't think he's sick again?"

Ben raised both eyebrows. "You know him best. Do you?"

Michael thought for a second, then shook his head, turning back to the pasta. "No," he said as he poured it into the strainer. "If he was sick, the last thing he'd do is throw a big party to tell us. You know Brian."

Ben dropped a kiss on his head. "I do. But not like you do. So I'll take your word for it."

After dinner, Hunter and Ben were at the table, Ben grading papers and Hunter working on one. Michael stood in the kitchen doorway drying his hands, smiling at them while they worked.

The phone rang, and he carried it into the living room. "Hey, Em. What's up?"

"I just got the strangest call," Emmett said.

"Drew again, with the heavy breathing?"

"No, not this time," he said. "It was Brian."

"What's so weird about that?" Michael used the remote to start the gas fire they'd had installed the year before, and sat on the sofa.

"He wants me to plan what he called an 'old-fashioned family Christmas' out at that mansion he bought for Justin that they've never lived in."

"Yeah, Mel told me."

"Michael, the last time I mentioned to Brian that Christmas is my favorite time of year – especially when my parties are triple booked – he nearly hit me with his pool cue and told me that in the advertising business, Christmas starts in March and is over by August, and I could stick my ho-ho-ho up my hole-hole-hole."

Michael laughed. "That sounds like Brian."

"Sweetie, this is a man who would kill and eat Cindy Lou Who right after kicking Tiny Tim off his crutches. It's so totally out of character."

Michael agreed, but later that night, while he fell asleep listening to the scratching of Ben's pen as he graded papers next to him in bed, he wondered why he didn't really feel as surprised as everyone else.
____________________

Justin got a call from Emmett, too. And from Daphne, who'd received an invitation in the mail and wondered what the joke was. He heard from Debbie, his mom, and even Ted, who had once told Justin that after Brian had bought Babylon and the house, nothing he did surprised him anymore.

"Imagine how I feel," he'd said to Daphne while he poked at the painting on his worktable with the end of his brush. "He asks me to marry him, twice, then buys me that house and wedding rings and basically loses his mind, and now they think it's bizarre he wants everyone to come for Christmas."

"Well," Daphne said, "you have to admit it's the first time Brian's acknowledged the existence of Christmas."

Justin paused. "That's true," he said, "but I think that part of it's really just about Gus. He was talking about Christmas when we were at Debbie's for Thanksgiving."

He frowned at the painting, and grabbed a tube of yellow pigment from the bucket on the bench. "You know Brian has a separate set of rules for Gus than everyone else."

"And for you," Daphne said, then sighed. "So romantic."

Justin rolled his eyes, but said, "He has his moments," as he scraped the yellow pigment into red, trying to match the color on his palette with the one he saw in his mind.

It had snowed the first week of December, and they were predicting a white Christmas all over the East Coast, but it was just rainy and cold when Justin's plane landed on the twenty-second. "I was sort of expecting you to be wearing a Santa hat," Justin said as he shoved his bag into the space between his knees.

Brian pulled away from the curb. "After all the time I spent blow-drying my hair?"

Justin reached over, shoved his hand through Brian's hair, and grinned. "Ooops."

Brian just smiled, and let his hand rest on Justin's thigh.

They went out to the house, which was edged in lights and had a huge Christmas tree in the living room window.

"Wow," Justin said admiringly.

"It's not bad for a bunch of cheap lights and tinsel," Brian said. "For which Emmett and his band of merry fairies charged me in the four figures."

"All our friends think you've lost your mind, you know," Justin said, heading up the stairs. "Except Michael."

"Not you?" Brian said, as they went into the master bedroom.

"Not me," Justin said. "Unless you're planning on dressing up as Santa."

Brian shuddered as his fingers unfastened Justin's jeans. "Can you see me with white hair, a beard, and fat?"

"No," Justin said, pushing Brian's shirt off his shoulders. "Now do something to get that image out of my head."

Brian grinned and let his slacks fall to the floor.

Justin nodded approvingly. "That works."

Justin had wanted to wrap his gifts in the dining room, but Emmett and his crew had taken it over, so he went upstairs.

When Brian came looking for him, the door to the bedroom was locked. "What the fuck, Justin?" he said, trying the doorknob again.

"Sorry." Justin opened the door. "I was wrapping your presents, but I'm done."

Brian tried not to see the discarded wrapping paper, scraps of ribbon, and tape dispensers littering the bed, just headed for the bathroom. "Is your shopping done?" he called as he adjusted the temperature of the water in the shower.

Justin appeared in the doorway, stripping off his sweats and t-shirt. "All done. And wrapped. Whatever shall we do with ourselves the rest of the day?"

"Well," Brian said, pulling Justin under the flow of water, "we could do this…"

Heat and wet poured over Justin's skin while Brian's tongue traced his throat and jaw. He felt himself go limp and almost melt into him.

"Or… this," Brian said, and tightened his fingers on Justin's arms, pressing him down.

Justin's knees hit the warm tile just as Brian's rigid cock pressed against his lips. "Come on," Brian whispered, hands in Justin's hair. "Suck me…"

He didn't stop pressing against Justin's mouth until he opened it, and then he kept his hands firm on the back of Justin's head, pushing deeper in.

Justin relaxed his throat as Brian's cock slid into it, letting his hands wrap around Brian's thighs, pulling himself closer.

Brian moaned and threw back his head, letting Justin swallow and release him, feeling the slippery wet heat of his mouth and throat on his cock, the hot water pouring over his head and down his body.

He had to brace his hands on the wall behind him when Justin drove his mouth down on his cock, and he felt a strangled moan in his own throat when he started to come.

His heart was pounding when he looked down at Justin, still kneeling in front of him, water glistening in sparkling strings over his face and shoulders.

____________________

Michael, Ben, and Hunter walked toward the front door. The weather forecast had come true; snow lay heaped in picturesque mounds on either side of the driveway and path, and glistened on the branches of all the trees.

"Sweet," Hunter said. "They own this and don't live here? Are they out of their fucking minds?"

"Hey," Michael said, balancing a pile of presents against his chest. "Watch your language; it's Christmas."

Debbie and Carl pulled up, so they waited for them before ringing the bell. "Fuck," Debbie said as the sound of the chimes faded away. "How can you have a place like this and not live here?"

"Hah!" Hunter crowed. "As I was saying…"

Ben patted Michael's shoulder consolingly as Emmett opened the door.

"Merry Christmas!" he said. "Presents! Yay! Come on in!"

He ushered them into the living room, dominated by a 12-foot-tall tree framed in the garland-draped windows.

Debbie pulled off her coat and handed it to one of Emmett's hovering assistants. "Jesus, Em, did you do this?"

"I did," he said happily. "With a little help from my team. Isn't it fabulous?"

Carl looked around. "We should have him do our place next year, sweetie."

"What's wrong with how I do our place?"

"Nothing, Ma," Michael cut in. "He was just…"

"He was just being polite," Emmett said firmly. "No one can do what you do, Deb. Not even with all of Brian's money."

Just then, Brian came in, Gus in his arms. "And he means all my money, Deb. You should see his bill."

"Gus!" Debbie said, ignoring him. "My almost-grandson!" She gave him a big kiss, then wiped her lipstick off his cheek. "So, where's my granddaughter?"

Debbie headed off to find Jenny Rebecca, and Brian settled into an armchair by the fire, Gus still firmly on his lap. Ben and Michael put the presents they'd brought under the tree while Hunter explored the bar. "Can I have some of this?" he said, holding a bottle over his head.

Brian looked slightly ill. "That's a five hundred dollar bottle of the finest 40 year old scotch," he said.

"Jesus," said Carl.

"That's a no, I guess?" Hunter asked.

"That's a no," Brian agreed.

Hunter put the bottle down. "Why do you have a five hundred dollar bottle of booze just sitting here? Shouldn't you keep it in some special vault or something?"

"I was intending to drink it," Brian said.

"Great," Hunter said, walking over to the sofa and sitting next to Ben. "So I can have some then."

"Me too!" said Gus.

"He's your son all right," Lindsay said, coming into the room. "Let's wait a little longer for your first whisky," she told him. "Maybe… fifteen more years?"

"I promise I'll give you a bottle for your twenty-first birthday, Gus," Brian said.

Gus frowned. "That's not for a really long time."

"Trust me," Ben said, "it'll be a lot longer than that before you can appreciate a fine whisky."

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "I'm still waiting, personally."

"Speaking of waiting," Emmett said, standing up, "let me go see where our appetizers, and the rest of our guests, are." He headed for the kitchen.

Justin sat down across from Gus and Brian. "I think he'll find that the food and the missing guests are all in the same place."

"They do say the kitchen is the heart of the home," Brian said. "Although personally, I've always had a fondness for the dungeon."

Lindsay covered her face while Gus eagerly asked where the dungeon was and if he could see it.

"You are so on your own with this one," Justin told him, standing up. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Fortunately, Ted and Blake showed up just then, and Daphne and Jennifer a few minutes later, and Gus went racing off to find Jenny Rebecca to so they could poke and prod the boxes under the tree.

"So," Michael said, standing next to Brian as they surveyed the food-laden table in the dining room. "Did it come with a dungeon, or did you have one built specially?"

Brian smiled. "I was speaking of a hypothetical dungeon. Unfortunately."

"Well," Michael said, "you can always keep building. Like that house out in California, where the guy thought he'd never die as long as he kept adding to his house…"

"Please," Ted said. "Don't give him any ideas of how to obtain eternal youth, or the renovations will never end. Trust me."

Michael laughed, and went and sat next to Ben.

____________________

Melanie, Lindsay and the kids were staying at the house, so after everyone left, Brian and Justin took them into the living room while Emmett's crew cleaned up in the kitchen.

The presents had been opened, and Gus and JR were perfectly happy sitting in front of the fire playing with the expensive, age-appropriate, gender-neutral electronic games Brian had bought them.

"You really shouldn't have," Lindsay said, sinking into the sofa cushions, coffee in hand. "They were too much, and they won't appreciate them."

Brian shrugged, taking a sip of his scotch. "I chose them because the sales person assured me they'd keep them quiet for hours on end. It was entirely an act of enlightened self-interest."

Justin snorted, but didn't say anything.

Melanie was standing at the bar, pouring a little of the scotch into a glass. She took a sip. "Okay, our son may not appreciate this, but I do."

Brian gestured with his glass. "It's all yours." He paused. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Of course," Melanie agreed, adding a little to her glass. "Linds, do you want some? Justin?"

Justin got up. "I'll get my own. Go, sit down."

He poured two glasses, and carried one to Lindsay, then went back to his chair and looked at Brian. "So, do we have to wait until you've gotten them drunk, or are you going to tell them what this is all about?"

Brian looked at him for a minute, and then huffed a short laugh.

"What what's about?" Melanie asked.

"The big family holiday dinner," Lindsay said.

"The tree," Justin added.

"The garland and lights," Lindsay went on.

Brian heaved a martyred sigh. "The mistletoe, the slaughtered calf, the expensive Scotch," he said. "Can I not just want to show affection for my loved ones at this special time of year?"

Lindsay gave him a look. "You sound like an ad."

"I often do," Brian said.

"Can someone," interrupted Melanie, "tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Lindsay touched her leg briefly. "Language."

Mel rolled her eyes.

"It's actually fairly simple," Brian said. "I was wondering if there was any chance the two of you had gotten all you needed to get out of your sojourn in the Great Frozen North and would consider returning to the land of the free and home of the brave, now that several New England states, New York, and that bastion of progressive thought, Iowa, have passed marriage equality."

Melanie and Lindsay stared at him, but didn't say a word.

Justin took a sip of his Scotch.

Melanie looked at Lindsay. "Did you tell him?"

"No!" Lindsay said. "I'm as surprised as you are."

Brian leaned back. "So Canada's not the promised land after all? Other than the equality and free health care and excellent hockey opportunities?"

"We like Canada," Melanie said. "But we've been talking about coming home."

"It's hard being so far from you and Michael," Lindsay said. "And Debbie."

Melanie snorted, but didn't say anything.

Brian nodded. "Then it's settled, and apparently this entire production was unnecessary. I wish you'd mentioned this before I signed away a year's salary to Emmett…"

"It's not that easy," Melanie said. "The economy, as you may have noticed, is crap. It would take some time to find jobs, a place to live, save up for the move…"

Brian nodded. "I can pay for the move…"

At the same moment, Justin said, "Live here."

Everyone, even Brian, stared at him.

"What?" Lindsay said.

Justin nodded. "Brian and I are almost never here. We have the place in New York, and even when we're both in Pittsburgh, we're usually at the loft. And when Brian's here on his own, he always is."

Brian smiled, then looked at Melanie and Lindsay. "He's right. The house just sits here… dark… empty… cold…"

Melanie laughed. "We'd be doing it a favor."

Brian nodded happily. "Exactly."

"Actually," Justin said, "a couple of years here, and you'd have enough saved to buy something again, maybe near Ben and Michael."

Lindsay looked wistful. "It would be so great to be near them," she said. "And this is such a beautiful house. Think of how the kids would love it…"

"What do you think, Sonny Boy?" Brian called to Gus. "Would you and JR like to live in this house?"

"Sure," Gus said, not looking up from his game. "Can our moms live here, too?"

"Ah, Gus," Brian said, "a chance to live without parental supervision and you don't jump at it? You disappoint me."

Brian and Justin ended up leaving Melanie and Lindsay to talk it over after they put the kids to bed.

After they went upstairs, Brian watched Justin undress, then shook his head. "I can see I have to brush up on my cunning and guile."

Justin smiled, and started to unbutton Brian's shirt. "I told you; I'm on to you."

Brian unfastened his pants, and smiled back. "I can live with that."

____________________

Michael slid onto a stool in the diner. "Did you hear Melanie and Lindsay are moving back?" he asked his mom as she filled his coffee cup.

Debbie almost dropped the coffee pot. "With the kids?"

"No, Ma, they're leaving the kids in Canada. What do you think?"

Debbie put the pot down and sank onto the stool next to him. "How I've prayed for this day, when my sweet grandbaby Jenny Rebecca would come home! But how?" Then she gave him a look. "Brian. That's what this whole 'deck the halls' thing was about."

Michael sipped his coffee and nodded. "Looks like it."

"Kind of a marketing campaign," she said. "Typical Brian."

"Aren't you glad he did it?"

"Of course I'm glad! Are you crazy? If he was here, I'd kiss him." She looked around. "Where is he?"

"He and Justin went back to New York." He glanced at her. "Can I order now?"

She grabbed her order pad. "Sure, sweetie. Sorry. I just can't believe my sweet granddaughter will be coming home. I could just cry…."

"She's my daughter, you know," Michael said, half-laughing. "But I still need my lunch…"

"Right, sorry…" and she finally took his order.

____________________


Brian held the door of the elevator open for Justin when it got to their floor. "So, which will it be? Dark, exotic, yet slightly unsavory gay dance club, or watch the ball fall on Times Square with ten million of our unwashed fellow citizens?"

Justin unlocked the door to their loft, and pushed it open with his shoulder. "Surely some of the ten million will have washed?"

Brian shuddered. "I think it's a spectacle best enjoyed on television, while drunk, and drowned out by the pounding sounds of the thumpa thumpa."

Justin wound his arms around Brian's neck, and kissed his jaw. "I'm sure you're right. Dark, slightly unsavory gay club it is."

Brian caught him just as he pulled away. "I didn't thank you."

Justin looked up at him. "For what?"

Brian looked directly into his eyes. "For letting them have the house. I know you love it."

Justin shrugged. "I'll still love it two years from how. And ten years from now. And twenty…"

Brian cut him off. "I get the idea, but can we not fast forward too far into the future? I prefer not to think of us doddering around the house on walkers and going up the stairs on one of those banister lifts….

Justin laughed, and tugged at Brian's hair. "Speak for yourself, old man. I have the rest of my life ahead of me."

They changed and headed out, walking the 20 blocks to their favorite club because they couldn't find a cab anywhere. The doorman waved them in, pocketing Brian's fifty while the guys standing in line complained.

"I don't know why we always come here," Brian said, his mouth against Justin's hair. "Joking aside, it really is kind of unsavory."

Justin looked up at him, glitter dusting his hair. "That's why."

"Huh," Brian said. "You're right."

Justin just smiled, and kissed his throat.

A few minutes later the music cut out. "Ten…. Nine…"

"And there's the ball getting ready to drop," Brian said, pointing with his chin toward a giant screen behind the bar.

Justin didn't look, just went up on his toes and pulled Brian's face down close to his. "Happy New Year, Brian."

"Six… Five… Four…"

"Happy New Year," Brian said, and kissed him.

They were still kissing when the glitter stopped falling and the music started again.