TO:maybe742 FROM:xheartrockx TITLE: 500 Miles (1/2) GIFT REQUEST: Fic - Post-513 - NC-17 is appreciated but not necessary. Brian and Justin are on a road trip. Why they are on the road, what they're doing and who else is involved or not, that's all up to you. NOTE: First off, huge thanks go out to mander3_swish, not only for hosting these festivities but also for kicking me and my muse in the butt about this fic. It wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. Unfortunately, it’s not here entirely yet and this is just part one of two. I hope to get the rest into a presentable form by the end of next week and post a link in the comments here. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy what I came up with. SUMMARY: Brian struggles with the long-distance relationship. So he does what he always does – he pretends not to care and throws himself into his work. At the launch party for Kinnetik NYC, he runs into Justin again. Both are invited to spend Christmas in Toronto. When a blizzard hits, they are forced to share a car. Could this be the perfect opportunity to deal with their troubles? WORD COUNT: 3160
500 Miles
Prologue
"I didn't think you'd come."
"And miss seeing one my biggest commissions hung for the first time? Not for the world."
"It's a brilliant piece. I never thanked you for it."
"You sent me 15 thousand thank yous with a cheque. There's no need."
Brian takes a sip from his champagne, his gaze fixed on the huge canvas in front of him, ignoring the young man next to him.
"Where's Didier?" he asks when the silence between them becomes awkward.
"He's catering a wedding. A gay couple."
"Of course."
Justin in turn ignores the remark. "Besides, this isn't really a plus one kind of thing, is it?"
Brian shoots him a sideways glance, nodding somewhat solemnly. "I guess not."
"The offices look great. Very... you."
"Thanks."
Another moment passes. "You got the invitation to Mel and Linds' as well?" It isn't really a question.
"Yeah, I'm flying out tomorrow afternoon."
"Me, too."
"Well, I guess I'll see you in Toronto then. I've got to go charm some clients. They are paying for that painting after all."
*
Part 1
Brian hates Christmas. Or at least, he resents it for the most part. Always has.
Christmas at home has never lived up to the Hallmark expectations. His mother had always lectured, his father had always been drunk, and his sister had always whined about not getting what she wanted. So Brian had learned to expect nothing much of the holiday.
Spending Christmas at Michael's had made for some better memories eventually, given that he and Debbie actually seemed to welcome his presence. And when he had gone off to college, he had even spent it at Lindsay's once, if only to appease her WASP-y parents.
However, for him, Christmas had never been the saccharine-sweet love-overdose it seemed to be for so many people. That is, until Justin had invaded his life and insisted on throwing a Christmas party that one year. Much to Brian's chagrin, it hadn't even been so bad. He might even have agreed to repeating the experience had Justin not moved to New York the year after.
Ever since, Christmas had fallen back into the dull it had always been. Lindsay and Mel were up in Canada, and he couldn't bring himself to spent time with all the couples he called his friends nowadays.
So he had kept himself busy and distracted himself with work, trying to eventually open that New York branch of Kinnetik like he had always planned. He was only too aware of the irony that he had scheduled the launch party for two days before Christmas.
*
"What do you mean, there's no flight out?"
"I'm sorry Mr. Kinney, but all flights are delayed until further notice. With last night's snowfall and the incoming blizzard, the airline can't guarantee flight safety." The young woman at the airline counter tries her best to remain calm, even though she must have been repeating that same sentence for the three-hundredth time today.
"Then how the fuck am I supposed to go to Toronto?"
"Well, you can try getting on the Greyhound. Or you can take the train."
"Do you have any more brilliant suggestions?" It's not her fault. Brian knows that, but he can't help it.
"We could share a car."
Brian shouldn't turn around. Maybe if he doesn't, the voice behind him won't belong to Justin and he can just keep on being angry at the girl from the airline.
"Do you have any more brilliant suggestions?" Eventually, he does turn around and of course it's Justin standing behind him, a fucking duffle bag at this feet, car keys dangling from his finger.
"I got the last one. Take it or leave it."
Since when does Justin sound so... like him? He somehow even looks like him when he shrugs, picks up his luggage, and turns for the rental parking lot.
"Wait."
Justin stops without turning around and waits until Brian catches up with him. Brian could swear there's a little smile on Justin's face – the twat.
"You're not driving," Justin says before Brian even has the chance to think about asking.
*
The car is a sub-compact and it's white and it's almost as ugly as the golden Miata Michael used to drive. And even more so, it reminds him of that rental he had back when Justin's dad had crashed into his Jeep.
Brian leans against the side of the car while he finishes his smoke and Justin calls Lindsay to let them know about their change of plans. When he's done, Brian stumps the cigarette with the heel of his boot, tosses his jacket onto the back seat, then climbs into the passenger seat. Justin follows his example, starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.
They drive in silence for a while. For one, the roads are covered in snow and ice and other cars, and Brian doesn't want to get killed in a rental. As for the other reason... he doesn't really know what to say.
He hasn't seen Justin in months, and even when they have met, their conversations have been slow and contrived. There wasn't an actual fight; everything just happened. Or – to be more precise – Brian has let it happen. Just like he always has, just like he does now. He lets Justin drive, and while it annoyed the fuck out of him, he just sits there, almost dozing off as Justin maneuvers the car through traffic.
*
Justin isn't a bad driver. If anything he is just not used to driving because nobody in their right mind owns and uses a car in New York City.
This rental however... it might be great for parking in the city and top notch on fuel economy but on a good day it tops out at 70 miles an hour. Throw in shit road conditions and other drivers not caring an awful lot about them, Justin won't push it past 40, let alone 50.
This is going to be a long drive.
*
Three hours down the road, Brian is all but dozing off. Justin has cranked up the heater to keep the windows clear, resulting in the inside of the car being one herbal infusion short of a sauna.
Brian is shaken awake when Justin pulls the car off the highway. He blinks his eyes open, wondering briefly if they have already made it to Canada.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He asks when he realizes they are not even close to the border.
"The weather is getting worse. There is no way we'll make it to Toronto tonight. We might as well try and find a room for the night."
A quick glance out the window confirmed Justin's argument. The snow was coming down thicker now, swallowing light and view alike.
"I promised Gus I'd be there this year." It comes out more serious than Brian has intended.
Justin hesitates with his answers, and Brian can feel his brief sideways glance. Even within that split-second, it's like it has always been when Brian didn't say all that much and Justin was able to read so much between the lines. "We can leave first thing tomorrow. Be a couple of jolly gay Santa's..."
Brian grins at that. "That's a bit redundant, don't you think? Some bear with a fur kink surrounding himself with hundreds of twinks dressed up as elves, holed up a secluded location doing fuck knows what all year round?"
Justin matches his expression, shaking his head with a role of his eyes. "Please tell me that's not what you told Gus when he stopped believing in Santa Claus."
*
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"I'm afraid not."
"The Cheshire Cat."
"It was the only place with a vacant room in town." Justin dangles a key in front of Brian. The keychain is made of a little plasticine cat perched on a number seven. "Could be worse."
"Worse?" Brian longs for another cigarette, even though he's just finished one while waiting for Justin to return. "This looks like it's straight from one of those conversion camp ads."
"Speaking of straight... this was the only room left."
A beat passes between them in awkward anticipation. It's Brian to give in first and shrug. They both know he just pretends to be nonchalant. "Could be worse."
*
It can be worse. A whole lot worse, to be exact.
The room they've rented in the small inn is chock full of colors and prints, mostly floral and other swirly abominations in a multitude of shades and hues.
"Right now, splitting that rental with a tree on roadside doesn't seem all that bad." Brian drops his bag on the four post bed, all adorned with ruffles and ribbons.
"Yeah, I bet that's what Joseph told Mary when they found shelter in the shed."
"Go on then, Mary. See if there's a mini bar. There's no way I'm sleeping in here without getting shitfaced first." After a second or two, Brian backpedals. "You know what, I think I saw a liquor store around the corner. And I need some cigarettes, so..."
He is already halfway out the door, when Justin calls after him. "Brian... is this really okay? Me and you, sharing a room?"
Brian doesn't know what to say. He could say 'no' because this really isn't a good idea and it's been everything he's been trying to avoid. He could tell him 'yes' because after all he still does.... But he does neither of these things. Instead he shrugs and on his way out mumbles. "Sure, it's not like we've never done it before."
He doesn't hear Justin's answer. "No, actually we haven't."
*
One bottle of Jack might be enough for the night. Brian could (and probably should) get another one, but if they really do want to leave first thing in the morning, he needed a clear head. Because that's working great so far.
His hands are shaking when he lights a cigarette outside the inn, and he tells himself it's just the cold creeping into his bones.
This is not how this was supposed to go. Sure, he had sent out the invitation for the launch party. And he had suspected that Justin would also be invited to Mel and Lindsay's Holiday Festivus (or whatever politically correct term Mel had whipped up this year). In some corner of his brain, he had already mapped it all out. How he would make one of his swift visits, mostly for Gus' benefit, then get horribly drunk while trying to pretend that seeing Justin there didn't matter.
And now he's here. Due to an unforeseeable string of fucked up circumstances and even worse weather, they are stranded in the virtual middle of nowhere. Pretending none of this matters won't work so well when they have to share a bed.
Brian knew there was a reason why he hated Christmas.
*
When Brian returns to the room, he finds Justin sitting by the window, a sketch pad in hand. A closer look at the sketch confirms his instant suspicion; it's a drawing of him standing outside in the snow.
"I didn't know you were into landscapes now." Brian strips out of his jacket, scarf, hat, and shoes, leaving clumps of snow all over the carpet.
Justin grins, more to himself than to Brian. "It's more of a still life, don't you think." He flips the sketch book closed and puts it back into this bag. "So, you're going to break out that bottle or what?"
Much to Brian's surprise, this is less awkward than he would have expected. The TV is on while they drink, showing some 80s action movie they both have seen a dozen times. It's just background noise.
With the bottle going back and forth between them, they talk.
They talk about Justin's new exhibition at a small gallery in Brooklyn, and how he's doing commissions now, and that Brian buying that piece for Kinnetik NYC has helped bring in a new streak of business.
They talk about Kinnetik's new branch, and how difficult it was to find the right location and staff for it, and that Brian might even be looking for an apartment in the city in case he needs to stay for business (or pleasure, that's not yet decided).
"Can I ask you something?" Justin asks when it's close to midnight and he's laying on his back, one leg dangling off the bed. He's clearly a few sheets to the wind already, and it's one of those adorable looks Brian has come to miss.
"Didn't notice honesty hour was over," Brian replies and it's not quite clear to him what he means by that.
"Lindsay's new baby..." Justin begins slowly, avoiding eye contact.
"Not mine." Brian could swear a little flicker of relief ghosted over Justin's face.
"Why not?"
Brian shrugs. "Guess they found another fertile fag to do the deed. Someone more... responsible." He isn't sure why he sounds disappointed all of a sudden. It must be the whiskey talking. "I didn't find out until Linds was pregnant."
Justin takes a swig off the bottle, cringing. "I can't imagine that."
"Lesbians are just like regular women. I told you that on our first morning."
That earns Brian a swat on the thigh. "That's not that I meant. Two moms and three kids from three different men? I'm all for the so-called alternative family, but even in Canada that must be a bit difficult."
Another shrug. "It's their life. Their choice."
"So you don't even care that they didn't ask you?" When Brian doesn't answer, Justin continues, knowing that waiting for a reply is of no use. "I wouldn't want that. I always imagined our kids to share a parent so they'd be related."
"Yeah?" A beat passes before Brian thinks he can't breath right and needs to get out. "Tell that to Didier. I'm going to take a shower." With that, he all but leaps off the bed and heads into the bathroom.
When he returns, showered and sated from jerking off to a mental image of Justin holding a tiny baby that looks just like him, Justin is sound asleep. He occupies his usual spot on the bed, so Brian climbs in next to him. It only takes Justin about two minutes to roll over and curl up against Brian who certainly does mind but also doesn't.
This was going to be a long night.
*
When Justin wakes, Brian has already taken shower (again, this time sans the hand job – well, sort of), and is now standing in front of the mirror, shaving. It's still dark out but at least, it has stopped snowing.
"Morning," Justin says as he comes shuffling into the bathroom, his hair sticking up in all directions, making him look about ten years younger.
"Good morning, Sunshine." Only now that the words are out does Brian realize he has used Justin's nickname.
"Mind if I..." Thankfully Justin let's it slide and just points at the toilet.
Brian makes an inviting gesture. "Be my guest." As Justin washes his hands next to him, Brian tries his hardest not to look at him in the mirror... only because he fears he might cut himself, of course, that's the only reason. "Seems like the weather has cleared up. We should leave soon."
"Yeah, I'll just take a quick shower, and then we're good to go."
"So you're not going to get rid of this." Brian gestures at the short, fair stubble along Justin's jawline and chin. If that's an attempt to make him look older, he's failing rather miserably.
Justin runs a hand over his face. "Yeah. At least until we get to Toronto. JR loves it when I give her a whisker rub."
"And here I thought she had her mother for that."
Again, Justin ignores him. "She just has the cutest giggle when I do that."
"Aren't you adorable." Brian tries to push past that slight sting of jealousy, thinking that Justin has been up to Canada more times then he has, has probably seen more of Gus than he has. "You better be careful in case the Canadians are out for bears this season." He reaches out, hand closing around Justin's chin, his thumb brushing through the bristly stubble.
Before his brain registers what he's doing or why, Brian leans into and kisses Justin. Just like that. Out of nowhere and for no fathomable reason at all. And it's good.
It's a gentle kiss. It's a deep kiss. It's a kiss that makes Brian realize how much he has missed kissing Justin like this. It's one of those kisses they never had in public because it tells way too much.
Using his advantage in height, Brian pushes Justin back against the bathroom counter. With one arm around his waist, he lifts Justin just enough to sit him on the marble surface.
There's worse feelings then having Justin's not-yet-a-beard rub against his own chin. Not that Brian can think of any of them right now, not with the rest of Justin pressing against him, their bodies only separated by two layers of clothing.
Brian wants him. Right here, right now. He doesn't care if Justin is dating some ponce named Didier who caters for fag festivities. He doesn't care if they'll be even later for the party tonight. And he doesn't care that he doesn't care if he disappoints Gus (again). His brain is short-circuiting, kicking his hormones and everything connected to them into immediate overdrive. He gets hard in an instant, and he doesn't even need to look to know that Justin's hard, too.
He lets his hands trail down Justin's back, fingers brushing past the waistband of his pajama pants. Justin's skin is hot beneath his fingertip, and the little moan this small touch elicits is enough to send a chill down Brian's spine. If he came right here and now, he wouldn't even care. Much.
"Brian..."
"Mmh?"
"Brian, I really need to take a shower."
Brian pulls back. It's not what Justin said (he's said that plenty of times before), it's the way he said it. Like he actually meant it. Like he actually needs to take a shower for the sake of it. "What?"
"We should be leaving soon."
"What the fuck?"
"Would you mind getting me a coffee from the breakfast buffet?" Brian stares at him. He stares at him long enough to wonder if he might just be dreaming. Then Justin puts a hand on Brian's chest, pushes him away, and hops off the counter. "Thanks."
Like in a trance, Brian watches him get the shower going, then retrieve his clothes from the other room. It felt like a kick in the balls, only worse. Way worse.
What is even worse, is that Brian had no idea how to survive the rest of the ride up to Toronto with his cock half-hard.