InsaneJournal

Graphic Number 19: "Life is a Crap Shoot"
Title: Life is a Crap Shoot
Author: thymewriter
Timeline: Post 513
Rating: G
Warnings, if any: None
Author's notes: Thanks to Sabina for her help and suggestions.
Graphic: 19 by flashfly




"What the fuck is that?” Brian said as he entered Justin’s studio at Britin.

“Hey, don’t you ever knock?” Justin demanded.

“No, you’d only let me in anyway,” Brian replied tongue in cheek.

“Well, that’s beside the point.” Justin smiled at his partner as Brian walked across the studio towards him.

“What is that?” Brian asked studying the canvas that sat on the large easel in front of Justin. Justin had been working on it before he was so rudely interrupted. “It doesn’t look like any of your usual work.”

“That’s because it isn’t,” Justin said slowly.

Brian moved closer to the canvas to which Justin had been adding some finishing touches. He peered at the painting, studying it. “Is that me?” he asked.

“Trust you to zero in on yourself,” Justin chuckled.

“Why the fuck am I dressed like that? Why am I dressed at all?”

“It’s symbolic.”

“Of what?”

“It’s a St. Sebastian representation. He was a martyr and sort of patron saint of homos.”

“What the fuck! But it’s me.”

“Aren’t you the modern day patron saint of homos?” Justin laughed.

“I like to fuck homos, but I’m no martyr,” Brian declared. “I don’t like pain.”

“That’s for sure. Remember when my father rammed your car. You were so pathetic.”

“Till Mikey came to my rescue,” Brian added smugly.

Justin snorted derisively. “And thoroughly pissed off Dr. Dave.”

“Exactly.”

“You are so bad,” Justin chuckled.

“So, getting back to important things, why do I have on a loincloth? You usually paint me naked. You’ve covered up my finest attribute.”

“And a very fine attribute it is,” Justin laughed, “but I don’t think it would have the same impact as my St. Sebastian.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “My dick always has an impact.”

“True,” Justin smiled, “but your sexual prowess is not the main focus of this painting.”

“So what is?” Brian frowned, as he looked at the strange conglomeration of items that made up the painting.

“Can’t you figure it out? That is, if you can look past your body in a loincloth.”

“It is difficult to notice anything else,” Brian stated haughtily, but he looked at the painting more closely. “Is that you at the top of those steps?”

Justin smiled. “Yes, how did you know it was me?”

“The baggy clothes and the messenger bag.”

“Right the first time.”

“But why are you at the top of those stairs walking towards the light…? Fuck! Is this about what happened?” Justin nodded. “I didn’t think you’d want to paint anything about that. Don’t you just want to forget it?”

“Sometimes that’s easier said than done,” Justin replied sadly. “I felt compelled to get it all out. Maybe then I can let it go.”

Brian reached for Justin and pulled him into a hug. He felt Justin mold himself against his body. They always fit together so well. That was the way Brian liked it … together … totally together. “Did … did you think you were going to die?” Brian asked trying to keep his emotions under control, but wanting to know.

“When I couldn’t fucking breathe … yeah!” Justin breathed deep against Brian’s shoulder, thankful that he still could. He inhaled the familiar scent of his man mixed with traces of Brian’s cologne. He drew another breath as he relished the fact that he was alive and with Brian.

“God damn bee,” Brian spat, as he looked over Justin’s shoulder at the painting. It brought back all the fear and panic that he had felt that day almost a month ago. He could feel his heart freeze in his chest when Justin had started gasping for air. His lover had managed to whisper, “Brian, bee sting,” before dropping to the ground unable to breathe. Brian could feel a shudder pass through his body as he relived those next few moments when he didn’t know if there was enough time before Justin’s airways closed up completely.

He had raced back to the picnic blanket where Justin’s messenger bag was. His fucking legs wouldn’t move fast enough. Then his fingers wouldn’t open the fucking bag. And then the panic of not finding the Epi-pen immediately. Those seconds of rummaging through Justin’s junk could have cost his lover his life. Brian had been so afraid that he was going to lose Justin once and for all, before he could get back to him with the Epi-pen. He remembered jabbing the pen into Justin’s thigh right through his cargo pants. He shivered at the memory, and felt Justin hug him tighter. But then Justin had come back to him, had opened his eyes and taken a breath.

“I was afraid, but you saved me … once again,” Justin whispered into Brian’s shoulder.

“I wish you’d stop making that fucking necessary,” Brian griped. “And I didn’t do anything.” Despite his words, he held Justin a little tighter.

“If you hadn’t run back to the picnic blanket and grabbed the Epi-pen after the bee stung me, I would be dead.”

“You know you’re supposed to carry that pen with you at all times,” Brian reminded him.

“I know and I had it in my messenger bag.”

Brian shook his head and then kissed the top of Justin’s blond locks. “No more picnics for you.”

“We could always have floor picnics,” Justin suggested. Brian pushed Justin away so that he could look into the blue eyes. He saw the hint of humor there and relaxed. “Or bed picnics,” Justin added with a wink.

“Too messy. Crumbs.”

“We can always change the sheets. I rather like the idea of eating my food off your chest.”

“Or I can eat mine off your ass.”

Justin chuckled and then his face grew serious. “I’m sorry that me getting stung spoiled our picnic with Gus. He was pretty upset.”

“He’s fine now. I explained what happened. And he’s seen you several times since, so he knows you’re all right.”

“It must have scared him when the ambulance came.”

“It did, but he’s fine now.”

Justin shook his head. “Fucking allergies.”

“What’s the headless marble man for?” Brian asked, looking back at the painting and deciding that it was time to change the subject.

“My muse. Me as the artist. Another symbol,” Justin offered.

Brian nodded. “And the egg?”

Justin laughed out loud. “That’s not an egg. That’s the mirrored ball from Babylon.”

“No shit!” Brian laughed looking more closely. “I thought I was hatching from an egg.”

“I guess you could interpret it that way,” Justin agreed with a laugh. “It’s just that so much of our history took place at Babylon.” Justin’s face took on a wistful look, as he remembered all the times they had danced at Babylon. And then there had been things like the Rage party that were better forgotten.

“And the two things that look like origami boats?” Brian asked.

Justin giggled. “Two crowns.” Brian frowned and looked at Justin, obviously not comprehending their significance. “For the two Kings of Babylon,” Justin explained with a twinkle in his eye.

“You’re the one who was crowned king,” Brian said.

“You’ll always be King of Babylon,” Justin told him.

“King of the back room is more like it.”

“That too,” Justin laughed. “You’ll always be my king.”

“Thank you, princess,” Brian said smugly.

Justin swatted his chest. “There’s one thing you haven’t mentioned in the painting,” Justin observed.

“The dice?”

“Yep.”

“So what do they mean?”

“I’m calling this painting Life is a Crap Shoot.”

“And why’s that?”

“I could have been dead, Brian,” Justin said seriously. “I stopped breathing.”

“But you got the Epi-pen in time and you’re fine.”

“Yes, and that’s the crap shoot. If you hadn’t known where the Epi-pen was, if I hadn’t got the shot for another few minutes, who knows…?”

“Don’t say that. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Me either, and I think I won’t have to now that this is finished,” Justin said, gesturing to the painting.

“Good, I want you safe and I want you with me for a long, long time,” Brian stated. He pulled Justin against him again and kissed the lips that he loved so much. “How about we have a bed picnic right now?” Brian suggested.

“You want to?” Justin asked hopefully. He couldn’t help but smile at Brian who he knew would do anything to make him happy.

“I’ve been known to do a ridiculously romantic thing or three,” Brian smirked.

“Yes you have,” Justin replied wistfully.

“So, let’s go for it. I think there’s champagne and caviar in the kitchen. We can celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“That life’s crap shoot came up sevens for us.”

“I can drink to that,” Justin chuckled.

Brian took Justin’s hand and pulled him out of the studio. Nothing felt better than Justin’s hand in his, warm and firm and alive. Well, nothing except maybe the feel of Justin’s dick up his ass. Brian was grinning as he decided to give Justin a memory to replace the one depicted on that canvas.