testdog65 (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} testdog65) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} qaf_challenges,@ 2007-06-03 18:10:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
THE MORE I SEE YOU
***
Chapter One
Damn it. Just when you think you have it all figured out, something surprises you, and all of a sudden, you find yourself in the middle of a car dealership smiling down at him like a damn fool, his little fingers clumsily grabbing onto your chin. And it's not like you're a fucking family man or some shit like that, because God knows that your dear old dad wouldn't exactly have won any father of the fucking year awards, but you are still man enough to admit what this little guy does to you. Alright, the sentiment won't cross your lips until they're cold and blue and six feet under, but still, it's not like you're completely heartless, is it...Because, who the fuck knew that you were capable of actually feeling this much for him? Not you, that's for sure. And as much as you try your best to make the people around you believe you're an asshole, this little person manages to turn you inside out and back.
Fuck. Of all the God fearing things your witch of a mother taught you, you never took yourself as someone worthy of any kind of salvation. Could Gus be that for you? Can you do for him, for your son, what your shit of a father never did for you? Do you have it in you to love him unconditionally, no matter what?
Slowly, you trace the bridge of his nose, delighting in the way those big, blue eyes stare adoringly at you. Sure, you've been stared at in awe many times before, but that usually happened against the wall in Babylon, over the table in your office, or on any and/or all surfaces in your loft. But this is something completely different, something meaningful. He's the one that matters and fucking hell, if you had ever known you'd feel like a proud daddy, playing with the button-nose of his firstborn, just so you could see the little guy smile, you'd have shot yourself on the spot.
”Sir?” The unfamiliar male voice draws you back to reality, your complete annoyance visible on your features, when you glare at him. Hell, if looks could kill, the poor bastard would be a happy pile of ash right about now.
“Would you perhaps like to take the car for a test ride? We offer great benefits for a young families like yours. For example, SUVs are the best-...”
Fucking SUVs. You would rather jump off the building than ride one of those “family cars”. Shit. You do love your son, but it's not like you're fucking crazy! You tune out the sucker and walk right over to the black jeep, your fingertips gliding over the smooth surface of the car as you smirk at Linds from across the room. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, just like she always does, and kisses Gus gently on the head, and you can't help but feel a light pang inside your chest. Yep, sonny boy is your son alright, charming the pants of his mommy with a single look or smile. You just hope that that whole flirting with your mommy experience won't turn him into a flaming breeder. Still, deep inside, you know that no matter who your boy turns out to be, he will be loved – by his moms; by your big, unconventional, sometimes pushy as fuck, family...and by you. That is one thing you've learned in the last couple of months since Gus was born. And then, something else entirely gets your undivided attention.
”Justin, don't act like a damn child. We discussed this already. Mom and I are giving you this car as a graduation gift and in the fall, you will go to Dartmouth. The subject is closed. Do I make myself clear?”
The blond's frustrated sigh fills the room. On the surface, the kid looks like a spoiled brat and barely more than thirteen, but there's something more there, something you can't exactly pinpoint, a certain kind of sadness that seems so achingly familiar to you. On top of all, the kid is so very obviously gay, but it seems like he's doing all he can to act as “straight” as possible.
“But dad, I -...” The kid, Justin...tries again.
“No, Justin. While you live under my roof, you will follow my rules. Now, let's get this over with, so we can get home. I'm already late for my meeting.”
Finally, as if by magic, the car dealer appears by their side.
“So, Mr. Taylor, have you decided?”
Silently, you watch as the blond completely shuts down. You're not into chicken at all, but all you want to do at this moment is go to him and tell him that this doesn't have to be his life, that there is such a big, gay world out there. And then, across the room, with dozens of cars in between, your eyes meet his. The gesture itself is anything but intentional and it doesn't seem particularly earth shattering, but even two years after this day, you won't be able to erase from your mind the look of desperation in his blue eyes. That was the day you realized that things would be changing and there was fuck all you could do to stop it.
(Two years later, when you agree with Ryder's suggestion that you give a series of marketing classes at Dartmouth, the first thing you think about is not some twink's blue eyes – the same twink you never even talked to, much less fucked. Or so you are telling yourself, because you know that the realization alone would be enough to make you run for the fucking hills. But at that particular moment, when the suggestion was made, even though you'd deny it to your dying day, you had felt your stomach drop. Whether it was excitement or the ulcer you’d started getting at about the same time, you'd never know, but once you parked your jeep in front of Dartmouth's business building, all bets were off.)
***
First day
You quickly gather your materials for the class and lock the car door behind. Hurriedly, you check the clock on your cell. Shit. You're fucking late already. Great, just what you needed on your first day here. You look around, your eyes searching for the room where the class is held. Finally, you find the fucking room and take a deep breath. This is it. You will either make it or break it here. Not that you were worried about the damn class itself. That was the part you had under control. It was everything else that scared you shitless and kept disturbing your fragile balance, starting with the ulterior motive you decided to just ignore and push to the back of your mind.
Shit, you can't do this. This is not you. Fuck! God, what were you thinking??? Were you even thinking??!? You don't fucking know if he even ended up going to Dartmouth, you idiot! Alright, alright, just breathe...Okay. You are here for a fucking reason. Just deal with that. He's not even a factor in your life, so forget about him right now. Yeah, that's it. Inhale and exhale. Okay. Now get your head out of your ass and charm the fuck out of these losers. Yeah, okay, you can do that. Once you're done, they won't even know what hit them. Slowly, you push the door open and smile winningly at the class waiting for you. Oh yeah, this will be a piece of cake. For the next 45 minutes, you have a role to play and you'll be damned if you pass up on the opportunity to make this the role of your lifetime.
Shit. Here goes nothing.
***
(When the unthinkable actually happens, nobody is more surprised than you. Well, you knew this was a distinct possibility. You could've guessed that he might not show up for class. After all, it's not as if you two knew each other. For fuck’s sake, you never even talked to him! And here you are, drowning your fucking sorrows in Beam for a twink you never even knew. Thank God you were miles away from the Pitts. If Mikey only knew the levels of utterly pathetic you managed to reach, he would fucking laugh right in your face.)
“One more...” You manage to mutter. The bartender eyes you with teacher-like patience.
“I think we both know you’ve had more than enough for tonight.” You glare back at him. Hey, screw you, buddy! If you wanted to get fucking drunk, it's your damn life and your damn money. Nobody`ll be the boss of you!
When he tries to pry the empty glass from your hand, you try to make your glare as menacing as possible, but once his head refuses to explode and your glass stubbornly stays empty, you guess that Mikey's ravings about your powers of mind control were very much exaggerated. Fucking Michael. Now, if you just manage to fail to pick up a trick, you will officially be a trifecta of failure. Fucking great. (Okay, who the hell woke up this morning and told you this would be a great fucking day? Oh yeah, that idiot was you.)
“Hey Ben. You need some help?” The burly man behind the bar shakes his head at the blond.
“Nah, Justin. We have the situation under control, don't we, handsome?” Handsome? What the fuck is he talking about? Wait a minute, did he just say Justin? You use all the strength you have left to raise your head from the bar.
“Justin?” You slur his name, making it sound more like Gustin, but it’s really all you can do at the moment. His blue eyes finally focus on you. You can see he knows he's seen your face before, he's just not sure where. Now, exactly how pathetic does that make you, since you've been pretty much unable to forget his?
“Do I know you?” No? Yeah? Maybe? What can you say to that without sounding like a complete wacko stalker or worse? So you just shake your head.
“Want a drink?” He grins impishly and shakes his head, as he takes the offered empty glass from your hand.
“Not tonight, stud, and I think you are done for tonight, too. Let's get you home, okay? Ben here has to close the place in fifteen minutes.”
You slowly try to slide off your chair.
“It's Brian, not stud.” You mumble under your breath, as you hold onto the bar in sheer desperation. Suddenly, you feel someone’s strong hands around your waist, holding you upright.
“I got you, Brian.” You hear him whisper so softly, his lips dangerously close to yours, that you find yourself wondering whether he said anything at all, or if you just imagined it in your state of drunkenness. But his arms are still firmly wrapped around your waist and suddenly, like a small child, you open your eyes and watch him as he silently helps you out of the bar. Without thinking, you put your arm around his shoulder and try to help him help you.
***
Through a fog of your mind, you hear someone calling your name and that pulls you back to reality again. You look around, trying to identify where you are and then you hear his voice.
“Brian, where to?” Uh...home? Okay, that doesn't help much. Shit, where are you staying?? Fuck. You knew it this morning! Shitshitshit. Justin sighs deeply and fastens your seatbelt.
“Okay. Shit. Listen, for tonight, you can spend the night at my place. But no funny business, mister. You understand? I don't take advantage of people in your state and would like the same treatment, thank you very much. It has been a long fucking day.”
Oh fuck. He's serious, isn't he...Suddenly, you reach over and pull him close by his sweater. Your mouth covers his and, before he realizes what hit him, you are kissing the one you couldn’t forget – the one that, unknowingly, kept you alive for the last two years. You pull away for a moment and look into his bewildered eyes, as he tries to read your mind. The next thing you know, his warm lips are back on yours, holding on for dear life and you have never felt more alive in your life.
(Back home, you will always be young and you will always be beautiful. But here, in this time and place of eternal youth, you have something much more valuable. You have Justin Taylor. The rest are just details.)
TBC
Original poster: _alicesprings
Title: The More I See You
Written By: crazy4qaf
Timeline: Somewhere around 108, but without Justin (everything after 108 is AU).
Rating: R for language
Warnings: WIP, AU
Summary: What if Brian and Justin met for the first time in a car dealership of all places? Would things be different for them?
Author's Notes: All my gratitude goes to my beta beautiful_rain_. She did such a great job from the chaos of my mind with this and I really hope she knows how much her help means to me. :)
Chapter One
Damn it. Just when you think you have it all figured out, something surprises you, and all of a sudden, you find yourself in the middle of a car dealership smiling down at him like a damn fool, his little fingers clumsily grabbing onto your chin. And it's not like you're a fucking family man or some shit like that, because God knows that your dear old dad wouldn't exactly have won any father of the fucking year awards, but you are still man enough to admit what this little guy does to you. Alright, the sentiment won't cross your lips until they're cold and blue and six feet under, but still, it's not like you're completely heartless, is it...Because, who the fuck knew that you were capable of actually feeling this much for him? Not you, that's for sure. And as much as you try your best to make the people around you believe you're an asshole, this little person manages to turn you inside out and back.
Fuck. Of all the God fearing things your witch of a mother taught you, you never took yourself as someone worthy of any kind of salvation. Could Gus be that for you? Can you do for him, for your son, what your shit of a father never did for you? Do you have it in you to love him unconditionally, no matter what?
Slowly, you trace the bridge of his nose, delighting in the way those big, blue eyes stare adoringly at you. Sure, you've been stared at in awe many times before, but that usually happened against the wall in Babylon, over the table in your office, or on any and/or all surfaces in your loft. But this is something completely different, something meaningful. He's the one that matters and fucking hell, if you had ever known you'd feel like a proud daddy, playing with the button-nose of his firstborn, just so you could see the little guy smile, you'd have shot yourself on the spot.
”Sir?” The unfamiliar male voice draws you back to reality, your complete annoyance visible on your features, when you glare at him. Hell, if looks could kill, the poor bastard would be a happy pile of ash right about now.
“Would you perhaps like to take the car for a test ride? We offer great benefits for a young families like yours. For example, SUVs are the best-...”
Fucking SUVs. You would rather jump off the building than ride one of those “family cars”. Shit. You do love your son, but it's not like you're fucking crazy! You tune out the sucker and walk right over to the black jeep, your fingertips gliding over the smooth surface of the car as you smirk at Linds from across the room. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, just like she always does, and kisses Gus gently on the head, and you can't help but feel a light pang inside your chest. Yep, sonny boy is your son alright, charming the pants of his mommy with a single look or smile. You just hope that that whole flirting with your mommy experience won't turn him into a flaming breeder. Still, deep inside, you know that no matter who your boy turns out to be, he will be loved – by his moms; by your big, unconventional, sometimes pushy as fuck, family...and by you. That is one thing you've learned in the last couple of months since Gus was born. And then, something else entirely gets your undivided attention.
”Justin, don't act like a damn child. We discussed this already. Mom and I are giving you this car as a graduation gift and in the fall, you will go to Dartmouth. The subject is closed. Do I make myself clear?”
The blond's frustrated sigh fills the room. On the surface, the kid looks like a spoiled brat and barely more than thirteen, but there's something more there, something you can't exactly pinpoint, a certain kind of sadness that seems so achingly familiar to you. On top of all, the kid is so very obviously gay, but it seems like he's doing all he can to act as “straight” as possible.
“But dad, I -...” The kid, Justin...tries again.
“No, Justin. While you live under my roof, you will follow my rules. Now, let's get this over with, so we can get home. I'm already late for my meeting.”
Finally, as if by magic, the car dealer appears by their side.
“So, Mr. Taylor, have you decided?”
Silently, you watch as the blond completely shuts down. You're not into chicken at all, but all you want to do at this moment is go to him and tell him that this doesn't have to be his life, that there is such a big, gay world out there. And then, across the room, with dozens of cars in between, your eyes meet his. The gesture itself is anything but intentional and it doesn't seem particularly earth shattering, but even two years after this day, you won't be able to erase from your mind the look of desperation in his blue eyes. That was the day you realized that things would be changing and there was fuck all you could do to stop it.
(Two years later, when you agree with Ryder's suggestion that you give a series of marketing classes at Dartmouth, the first thing you think about is not some twink's blue eyes – the same twink you never even talked to, much less fucked. Or so you are telling yourself, because you know that the realization alone would be enough to make you run for the fucking hills. But at that particular moment, when the suggestion was made, even though you'd deny it to your dying day, you had felt your stomach drop. Whether it was excitement or the ulcer you’d started getting at about the same time, you'd never know, but once you parked your jeep in front of Dartmouth's business building, all bets were off.)
First day
You quickly gather your materials for the class and lock the car door behind. Hurriedly, you check the clock on your cell. Shit. You're fucking late already. Great, just what you needed on your first day here. You look around, your eyes searching for the room where the class is held. Finally, you find the fucking room and take a deep breath. This is it. You will either make it or break it here. Not that you were worried about the damn class itself. That was the part you had under control. It was everything else that scared you shitless and kept disturbing your fragile balance, starting with the ulterior motive you decided to just ignore and push to the back of your mind.
Shit, you can't do this. This is not you. Fuck! God, what were you thinking??? Were you even thinking??!? You don't fucking know if he even ended up going to Dartmouth, you idiot! Alright, alright, just breathe...Okay. You are here for a fucking reason. Just deal with that. He's not even a factor in your life, so forget about him right now. Yeah, that's it. Inhale and exhale. Okay. Now get your head out of your ass and charm the fuck out of these losers. Yeah, okay, you can do that. Once you're done, they won't even know what hit them. Slowly, you push the door open and smile winningly at the class waiting for you. Oh yeah, this will be a piece of cake. For the next 45 minutes, you have a role to play and you'll be damned if you pass up on the opportunity to make this the role of your lifetime.
Shit. Here goes nothing.
(When the unthinkable actually happens, nobody is more surprised than you. Well, you knew this was a distinct possibility. You could've guessed that he might not show up for class. After all, it's not as if you two knew each other. For fuck’s sake, you never even talked to him! And here you are, drowning your fucking sorrows in Beam for a twink you never even knew. Thank God you were miles away from the Pitts. If Mikey only knew the levels of utterly pathetic you managed to reach, he would fucking laugh right in your face.)
“One more...” You manage to mutter. The bartender eyes you with teacher-like patience.
“I think we both know you’ve had more than enough for tonight.” You glare back at him. Hey, screw you, buddy! If you wanted to get fucking drunk, it's your damn life and your damn money. Nobody`ll be the boss of you!
When he tries to pry the empty glass from your hand, you try to make your glare as menacing as possible, but once his head refuses to explode and your glass stubbornly stays empty, you guess that Mikey's ravings about your powers of mind control were very much exaggerated. Fucking Michael. Now, if you just manage to fail to pick up a trick, you will officially be a trifecta of failure. Fucking great. (Okay, who the hell woke up this morning and told you this would be a great fucking day? Oh yeah, that idiot was you.)
“Hey Ben. You need some help?” The burly man behind the bar shakes his head at the blond.
“Nah, Justin. We have the situation under control, don't we, handsome?” Handsome? What the fuck is he talking about? Wait a minute, did he just say Justin? You use all the strength you have left to raise your head from the bar.
“Justin?” You slur his name, making it sound more like Gustin, but it’s really all you can do at the moment. His blue eyes finally focus on you. You can see he knows he's seen your face before, he's just not sure where. Now, exactly how pathetic does that make you, since you've been pretty much unable to forget his?
“Do I know you?” No? Yeah? Maybe? What can you say to that without sounding like a complete wacko stalker or worse? So you just shake your head.
“Want a drink?” He grins impishly and shakes his head, as he takes the offered empty glass from your hand.
“Not tonight, stud, and I think you are done for tonight, too. Let's get you home, okay? Ben here has to close the place in fifteen minutes.”
You slowly try to slide off your chair.
“It's Brian, not stud.” You mumble under your breath, as you hold onto the bar in sheer desperation. Suddenly, you feel someone’s strong hands around your waist, holding you upright.
“I got you, Brian.” You hear him whisper so softly, his lips dangerously close to yours, that you find yourself wondering whether he said anything at all, or if you just imagined it in your state of drunkenness. But his arms are still firmly wrapped around your waist and suddenly, like a small child, you open your eyes and watch him as he silently helps you out of the bar. Without thinking, you put your arm around his shoulder and try to help him help you.
Through a fog of your mind, you hear someone calling your name and that pulls you back to reality again. You look around, trying to identify where you are and then you hear his voice.
“Brian, where to?” Uh...home? Okay, that doesn't help much. Shit, where are you staying?? Fuck. You knew it this morning! Shitshitshit. Justin sighs deeply and fastens your seatbelt.
“Okay. Shit. Listen, for tonight, you can spend the night at my place. But no funny business, mister. You understand? I don't take advantage of people in your state and would like the same treatment, thank you very much. It has been a long fucking day.”
Oh fuck. He's serious, isn't he...Suddenly, you reach over and pull him close by his sweater. Your mouth covers his and, before he realizes what hit him, you are kissing the one you couldn’t forget – the one that, unknowingly, kept you alive for the last two years. You pull away for a moment and look into his bewildered eyes, as he tries to read your mind. The next thing you know, his warm lips are back on yours, holding on for dear life and you have never felt more alive in your life.
(Back home, you will always be young and you will always be beautiful. But here, in this time and place of eternal youth, you have something much more valuable. You have Justin Taylor. The rest are just details.)
TBC