Sweetie, I adore this fic. From start to finish. Deb at the diner...OMG I almost spewed my coffee and I had already read this section: “DEB!” someone shouted. “I need cream!”
“What, you milk your boyfriend dry? On the counter!” she hollered back. “Go ahead, baby, what were you saying?”
“Just that I’m working, and I found stu-“
“DEB! Where’s my order?”
“It’s gonna be up your ass if you yell at me one more time!” Debbie rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’d think they’d know by now how this place works!”
Teddy and the leaves, so perfect, but this had me rolling...Well, looks like housewarming sex will be put off for awhile. I can see him taking in everything, the leaves on the ground, the trees, the house. And yet…there was something so beautiful and so sexy about watching his muse at work. The gleam in his eye, the way his hand seemed to twitch, as if already sketching the outline.
I think he’ll like the renovations I had done to the solarium.
So score one for Theodore, although I was doing to have to kill him for delaying my need to have my dick in Justin’s ass. SO good.
He made me a studio.
There was canvas and paints, brushes and paper, an adjustable easel, deep sink and several long tables, and a work station at the end of the room for my computer.
Okay, the sketching could wait. A proper show of affection could not.
I let Brian bend me over one of the tables and fuck me.
Then, I grabbed a sketchbook and pencil, and headed outside. THIS is filled with win.
And one line that made me so freaking happy was Em telling Brian not to call him Honeycutt.
What I think struck me overall about this fic was not the banter, which is first class and spot on voices, but how much Brian relies on his family and how well Brian and Justin know each other.
Okay, that was the strangest exchange ever. Since when does Brian turn down a chance to terrorize vendors personally? And when did he do brochures for Carnegie Mellon? I’m sure I would have remembered that. And Michael would have mentioned it.
He wants Cynthia to call Michael. Probably to tell him to not tell me anything.
Also, Brian would die before he stayed in a hotel, away from his creature comforts. First, there’s not a hotel in existence that would hold all of his clothes. Second, he’s refurbished the loft several times, and he never had everything taken out. I could see it if he were having the floors refinished; he wouldn’t want the dust getting into the computer, his clothes, his lungs…
And that would have been the perfect cover story. Which means…he’s not living there.