Gusmas 2011: Photo Prompt Drabble Series Title: Coming Home Author:severina_2001 Prompts: All 7 Photo Prompts Notes: Allrighty. This is a 7-drabble story using the photo prompts, so it qualifies for not_yet_defined's pledge. I'm also a member of drabylon. The prompts were used in order and were: Trail in the Woods / Airport / Towels / City Skyline at Night / Red Bow / Snowbound Cabin / Dancefloor Glitter. Each drabble is 100 words and is separated by asterisks.
Coming Home by Severina
The trail at the back of the property is perfect for riding.
Of course, that was before they added "horses" to the list of two hundred things to which Justin is allergic. Also before Justin decided to stay in New York, limiting his visits to the Pitts to a couple of times a year. And it's already been far too long.
Here in the quiet of Britin's back acres, Brian can admit the truth: he misses Justin. Aches with it.
But he's the CEO of a fledgling agency, he can't just…
Fuck it.
He's already mentally planning what to pack.
* * *
The plane is still taxiing along the runway when Brian hits his speed dial. "Meet me at the Four Seasons in half an hour," he barks when the phone is answered.
"Excuse me, sir, but you'll have to refrain from using your cell until—"
Brian raises a finger. "I expect you naked and ready with your ass in the air. Bring lots of lube."
"Malcolm?" Justin voice asks tinnily from the receiver.
"Funny. Be there." He flips the phone shut, turns an obsequious smile to the hostess. "Good fucks are hard to find," he says. "Can I help you?"
* * *
"Mmmm," Justin says when he steps from the shower four hours later. "I don't think I've used that particular set of muscles since …" He cocks his head, considering. "Right. The 'New York Is A Stinking Cesspool Get Your Ass To Pittsburgh' Summer of '08."
"Then I'm falling down on the job," Brian murmurs as he grabs a towel from the pile and swipes it over Justin's chest. He bends his head, nips at an earlobe. "Round Four?"
Justin glances down, quirks a brow. "You can't possibly still be—"
"It's been three months," Brian says. "What do you think?"
* * *
The wraparound windows offer a panoramic view of the city. Justin props his elbows on Brian's chest, gazes out. "It doesn't even seem like the same place," he muses.
"Hmm?"
"This." He slides down in the bed, tucks his leg between Brian's. "Five star hotels with concierge service, glittering lights. My New York is gritty, urban. Filled with noise, dozens of different languages—"
"Murderers, crackheads," Brian adds.
Justin slaps at his chest. "Artists, actors—"
"Pickpockets, muggers."
"Musicians."
Brian arches a brow, combs his fingers through Justin's hair. "Fiddlers?"
Justin's lips against Brian's are always enough to still such faithless thoughts.
* * *
The kiss is heated, but it's Brian who pulls away, reaches to the floor to drop a gift-wrapped box in Justin's lap.
Justin eyes the red bow skeptically. "Well," he says, "it too small to be an underwear model. You do realize that Christmas isn't until next week?"
"Maybe I wanted to be ridiculously romantic."
"If you start calling me 'my prince', I swear I'm walking," Justin says before he digs into the wrapping and pulls out the tickets.
"You don't like it," Brian says flatly.
"No, Curacao, it's great," Justin enthuses. "But… know where I really want to go?"
* * *
"Could have been on a tropical island," Brian bitches. "Could have been drinking mamosas. Could have been fucking on the beach! But noooo, you want to go to the motherfucking Arctic!"
"Maine is hardly the Arctic," Justin snips.
"Could have been—"
"Could have been getting sunburned and catching hepatitis," Justin interrupts. "And do you realize how hard it is to get sand out of a person's ass? Instead," he continues smoothly, "we've got a roaring fire and warm blankets, and an amazing hike for tomorrow."
"If I get pneumonia, I'm licking you so you catch it too."
Justin sighs.
* * *
Brian's mouth is moving, but Justin can't hear a damn thing. "WHAT?" he screams.
"I said," Brian yells back, "Babylon has a capacity crowd tonight!"
Justin gazes out at the mass of happy queers, turns back in time to see Brian spitting glitter from his tongue.
"Missing the cabin now?" Justin smirks.
Brian's lips brush his ear as he replies, "Missing you spread out in front of that fire."
"Hmm. Britin has a fireplace. And hiking in the snow."
"Your flight—"
"Fuck it," Justin says.
New York is fine, but this is home. He's already mentally planning what to pack.