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{\*\generator Msftedit 5.41.21.2509;}\viewkind4\uc1\pard\sa200\sl276\slmult1\lang9\f0\fs22\tab\tab\tab\tab Found by Discothequey\par
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WIP FOUND BY DISCOTHEQUEY\par
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Friday\par
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The first time it happened in years was in the bathroom.\par
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"Justin Taylor, I swear to God," Brian grumbled, hands grabbing for his toothbrush and fumbling wildly for the fucked up sink knobs to turn on the faucet. Everything was bleary and blue and it was just way too early. It was way too early to be functioning like a normal life form, let alone awake and well on the way to being pestered to death by an annoying fifteen-year-old.\par
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"What?" Justin asked, simply standing there like he hadn\rquote t been told repeatedly to leave Brian alone and to stay the fuck in the living room! His blond hair was tousled from sleepy hands, and despite the fact that he was dressed like WASP Child of the Year, he looked like a ragamuffin underneath it all, with dirty hands and an awkward, pubescent body. His legs and arms somehow looked long, even though he was just now working his way over five-three.\par
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"Couch. Now."\par
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"It\rquote s six in the morning. Nothing\rquote s on."\par
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"Watch Barney or something."\par
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"Fuck you."\par
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Brian ran his fingers through his shower-wet brown hair vigorously, blue toothbrush in his mouth and Colgate foam all over his lips. He watched Justin through the mirror and rolled his eyes at how bratty the kid looked. He was sitting on the toilet lid, arms crossed, face screwed up into an annoyed expression, shooting daggers at the older boy. Man. Brian was a man now. At twenty, he was about to start his junior year at Carnegie Melon, majoring in Marketing and minoring in No Bullshit. That included not babysitting a kid who was perfectly old enough to stay home alone for a few hours. Brian thought it was ridiculous that Mrs. Taylor had dropped her little pride and joy off at his piece of shit apartment on her way to work at 5:30 AM, instead of just letting him sleep till Brian picked him up around noon. He told Justin so.\par
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"She doesn't like me staying by myself."\par
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"You sleep till like, eleven. You would've been awake for an hour tops when I came to get you. And god, that would\rquote ve given you time to actually shower." He twirled around and pointed at Justin\rquote s paint-stained fingers with his foamy toothbrush.\par
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The kid just rolled his clear blue eyes. "I took one Wednesday night."\par
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"That\rquote s disgusting. Get your ass in the shower."\par
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"I don\rquote t stink." Justin sniffed his armpits and shrugged. "But anyway, I was going to take one this morning. I just didn\rquote t wake up in time."\par
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It was Brian\rquote s turn to roll his eyes. He scrubbed his teeth a few more times and, switching on the faucet, spat. "Imagine that. Get in the shower." He sat his toothbrush on the counter and pulled open the medicine cabinet to search for his toiletry pouch. He still hadn\rquote t packed. "And hurry up. We can go get breakfast before Mr. and Mrs. Novotny-Bruckner expect us to meet them."\par
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"IHOP?" Justin's face was hopeful.\par
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"You don't want to go to the Diner?"\par
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"I think my cheeks are still bruised from last time." The boy laughed, blond hair flopping about childishly. "But I just really want strawberry-banana French toast with whipped cream and sausage and strawberry syrup and chocolate milk and..."\par
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"Alright, alright. Whatever." Brian gave him one of those shut the fuck up you hyperactive child looks, and rolled his eyes with a barely-there grin.\par
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A faint smile crept up Justin\rquote s lips and he got that stupid stomach flutter thing again. He\rquote d been combating it for years, but it never seemed to go away. He'd finally told himself that he and Brian were just...weird. That there was so much shredded shit flying around them that neither were willing to acknowledge. Brian did his thing, Justin did his thing, and when their things happened to fall together, they simply happened to fall together. There would be looks and smiles and hugs that lasted too damn long to be friendly, but when they were over, the moment disappeared. Brian would go back to being Brian Kinney, college student who fucked when and where and whom he pleased, not giving a shit about anything. Justin would go back to being Justin Taylor, tenth grader and Art Club president who had an intense, burning, stomach aching crush on a guy five years his senior. A guy who gave him his very first kiss, was the catalyst to his very first orgasm, and made him feel that head spinning sensation of fucking love for the very first time in his life.\par
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But ultimately, there was Brian and there was Justin, but there wasn\rquote t Brian and Justin. Just Brian who happened to collide with Justin for a few minutes every once in a while.\par
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*\par
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The kid must\rquote ve been sitting idle for far too long, because the next thing he knew, he was being tapped on the head. "Are you with me?"\par
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Justin nodded, blushing, and climbed off the toilet lid.\par
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*\par
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Showering at Brian\rquote s place was always awkward.\par
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The older male tended to just walk around nude half the time, flopping his penis every which way, no care in the world about who\rquote s looking at it or how it appears. No question of do I have enough hair? or am I big enough? or is my body even remotely sexually appealing? Brian didn\rquote t give a shit, because he knew. Knew he was hot and hard and well endowed in both dick and pubic hair. Knew his stomach was flat and legs were toned and arms were muscular in that completely, non-obnoxious way that was sexy as hell.\par
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But Justin was embarrassed. Not so much around boys his own age, because gym class had wiped that bit of nervousness out of him and quick. He had other things to worry about in the boy\rquote s locker room than how kids with similar...growth perceived him. But he was embarrassed around Brian. Brian, he thought, would scrutinize him because he was just...like that, and no matter how badly Justin wanted to experience physical intimacy with him, he still found it difficult to just strip down and wear his naked skin proudly.\par
\par
"Here," Brian grumbled, still tired, still pissed off at a certain Jennifer Taylor. He tossed a black towel at the kid and left the bathroom. He knew the boy still flipped the fuck out at baring all, and it was too early to even remotely feel like intentionally embarrassing him. Brian didn\rquote t get it, never did, but whatever. Wasn\rquote t his problem. He remembered Michael used to skip showering after high school gym class because of the hard-ons he\rquote d surely get. Maybe that was Justin\rquote s deal.\par
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But then, as innocent of intentions both males had, something fucked ended up happening to the shower head, resulting in Justin being almost drowned by a stream of water. It was probably the pipes in the shitty apartment combined with the new, loose sunflower shower head Brian had been trying to work around until he found someone to fix it, but nevertheless, Justin was pummeled with a stream of shockingly powerful water.\par
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He\rquote d just lifted his right arm to wash his armpit, hair doused in about half a bottle of Brian\rquote s $35.00, imported French conditioner and face pink from being washed with sea salt facial scrub. That\rquote s when it happened.\par
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His first thought was to yell, "Help!" so he did, leaning up against the back of the shower, trying to shield his quickly reddening stomach from the blast. Everything hurt, but he couldn\rquote t get out of the shower without stepping through the spray, which would most definitely knock him over.\par
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Brian, upon hearing the thundering dahdahdahdahdah of the pipes shooting water out on their next victim, knew exactly what was going on. He pulled on his old, knock-around jeans and buttoned up while stifling a laugh. "I\rquote m coming, I\rquote m coming."\par
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Justin was whimpering by then, crouched down in the far corner of the shower cubicle, arms wrapped protectively around his body and flesh a nice strawberry color. His hair was stringy with conditioner and lying flat on his head, making it look ten times longer than usual and a golden brown.\par
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"Goddamn," Brian said emphatically, gripping the shower door and pulling it open. He glanced at Justin, naked and squirming and looking a bit like a drowned rat. He was all white and pink and dark blond. His lips were a pinched red and eyes squeezed shut, causing his browny-blond eyelashes to stick, flat and long, against his skin.\par
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Brian tried to adjust the shower head from where he stood, but found that a screw had come loose and damned if he knew how to fix it. So he ended up twisting the knobs and turning off the water. A loud, ksssoosh sounded as the pipes did their thing, and what resulted was a very wet, shaking teenager, a shower that looked as if a hurricane had come through, and a twenty-year-old with water speckles on his jeans.\par
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"I\rquote m so sorry," Justin mumbled out from under the tangle of his arms, wrapped around as much pale body as possible.\par
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"Does it to me all the time," Brian answered, pulling the shower door all the way open and reaching out a hand. The eldest was shirtless, Justin was nude, and here he was offering to pull the kid out. Brian didn\rquote t know why he felt it mildly, just mildly, inappropriate, but he did. Didn\rquote t much care, though, because the boy was shaken and unnaturally red.\par
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Justin just kind of enveloped himself in his arms and squeezed his eyes shut to get all the excess water out of them, so Brian opted for another tactic, and grabbed the fluffy black towel from where it rested on top of Justin\rquote s clothes. Opening it like he could imagine a mom would do for her child, he stepped into the shower.\par
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"Alright, Moby Dick. Up." Definitely not the best choice of words, but Brian honestly didn\rquote t mean anything by them. His face colored.\par
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"I\rquote ve got it," Justin grumbled, strategically placing his hands over his pubic area, trying to hold in as much junk as possible. He slid up the wall, feeling small and skinny and pruned, and allowed Brian to wrap the towel around him. He suddenly felt very weird, all heated and flushed, but grabbed the ends of the towel and tightened it around his body, fastening it on the side. "Thanks."\par
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Brian stood there, staring at the boy. "What\rquote s wrong with your hair?"\par
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"Conditioner. I need to rinse it."\par
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"Feel like braving the jet again?"\par
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Justin laughed, tapping his bare toes against the shower floor and creating a gentle thaack noise in the water, over and over again. "I'll just use the sink." He shivered from the cold.\par
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Brian backed away and, with a nod and a "'kay," made his way back to his bedroom to find a shirt to wear.\par
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*\par
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Later, the two were standing in front of the large bathroom mirror, one of the few positives to the dickshit apartment. Justin was being annoying, as always, asking Brian about what everyone was going to do on the trip, how long Michael and Ben had \lquote officially\rquote  been dating, why he hadn't warned Justin about the shower head, and whatever the fuck else.\par
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The kid wasn\rquote t receiving any answers other than "whatever," "eight months" and "because," so he eventually gave up and decided to leave the asshole to fix his hair in peace. But then nothing was on the TV at seven AM, so he came back, much to Brian\rquote s chagrin.\par
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"Can you not be still for like, ten minutes?" He asked, squirting gel into his palm and rubbing his hands together. He began to muss his hair.\par
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"I\rquote m bored."\par
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"Well, get unbored. Go watch TV."\par
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"There\rquote s nothing on."\par
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"Take a walk."\par
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"It's eighteen degrees."\par
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Brian leaned in close to the mirror and checked out the pores on his face, wincing when he saw what appeared to be the beginnings of a zit on his forehead, right above his right eyebrow. He pulled open the medicine cabinet and grabbed a tube of Clearasil.\par
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"Zit cream?"\par
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"Shut up."\par
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"I\rquote ve got clear skin."\par
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"So do I."\par
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"Then why are you putting zit cream on your face?"\par
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"Do you ever shut the fuck up?"\par
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Justin pressed his lips together and shrugged. He grinned cheekily at Brian in the mirror, watching as he dotted a bit of cream on his forehead and rubbed it in.\par
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"One day," the brunet said, squeezing more Clearasil onto his finger and turning to the kid, "you\rquote re going to wake up in the morning and your face will look like a pizza." He swiped a thick, pasty stripe across Justin's upper lip, giving him a mustache.\par
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"Asshole!" The boy laughed, hopping up on the counter, and with grabby hands - and somehow still orange and blue fingers - tugged a Kleenex out of the hotel-style wall dispenser. "You're just mean. If I was going to get acne, I'd already have it. I'm practically sixteen."\par
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"Ever heard of adult acne?"\par
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Justin wiped the zit cream off his face and scooted across the bathroom counter until he was right beside Brian. He gave him a gentle kick to the knee, hard enough to annoy but soft enough not to hurt. "Like the kind you have?"\par
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Oh, it was on.\par
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Brian tossed the Clearasil tube into his toiletry pouch before grasping Justin's shoulders so hard the younger boy winced. "What'd you say?"\par
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"Like. the. kind. you. have?" Justin enunciated each word, a bratty smirk plastered on his face.\par
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And then Brian transformed into total annoying older brother mode, trailing his hands down Justin's arms until he was grasping his wrists, then twisting the limbs into a loose pretzel behind Justin's back.\par
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Justin kicked, too small to pull away, too giddy to even want to.\par
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"Take it back," Brian whispered, pushing against the younger boy, upper body bent over the bathroom counter so much he was practically leaning in Justin's lap.\par
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"No way."\par
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"Do it."\par
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"Make me."\par
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"I will."\par
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"Oh, please."\par
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"What, you think I won't?" Brian stared Justin in the eye, face mere inches away, and though his look was menacing as hell, his eyes showed nothing but mischief.\par
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"What're you gonna do? Spank me?"\par
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Something changed then. Something unexplainable.\par
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There was suddenly a spark between them, flames burning in their eyes, and if Brian's goddamn motherfucking piece of shit alarm clock hadn't gone off right that second, still set for seven-thirty, maybe something would've happened.\par
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Not a kiss, exactly. Brian wouldn't dare go for that - not since he was a big bad adult now and Justin was a snobby teenager. But maybe a couple of envelope-pushing words would've been exchanged. Something like, "You want me to?" or "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"\par
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Nevertheless, nothing happened. The brunet pulled away, clearing his throat more times than necessary, cheeks a little pink with nervous excitement, and trudged off to the bedroom to shut off the fucking alarm clock.\par
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That was the first time the sparks had appeared since Justin was a dorky little middle schooler, just learning to jerk off and fawn over boys. He and Brian had only kissed once more since that fateful camping trip - the night of Debbie's Christmas party three months following.\par
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They'd shared a cannoli with chocolate chips because Brian was on a diet and refused to eat the whole thing, and were sitting outside on the old porch swing Debbie used to have, freezing but happy.\par
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"What do you want for Christmas?" Brian had asked, setting the empty plate on the swing between them and turning to Justin. He hadn't gotten the blond anything, which was probably shitty of him in a way, but he didn't care.\par
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Justin had just shrugged, biting his lip and then reaching over to finger the scarf around Brian's neck.\par
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And then two seconds later, Brian's lips were being pressed against his, and two more seconds later, it was like the kiss never happened. Brian suddenly had to go home, and that was it. The end.\par
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No, not the end. It's never the end.\par
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***\par
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IHOP was packed beyond its limits, and the boys ended up having to wait almost twenty minutes to be seated - twenty minutes in which Brian relentlessly complained about how "the fucking Diner is never this crowded," and they "should have gone there," and that Justin makes "the worst goddamn decisions ever."\par
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"Oh, shut up," the blond grumbled, leaning his head on Brian's shoulder and pretending to fall asleep. His shaggy hair fell in his eyes and Brian told him to get it the fuck cut.\par
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"Why?" He murmured, running his own fingers through the golden locks. "If I cut it, you won't have anything to pull."\par
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Seriously, it was the day of unintended double entendres.\par
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"I don't mean cut it all off, Sherlock. Just have a trim. You look like one of those stupid pop singers from the seventies with the shag 'do."\par
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"It's so not that bad. I like it long."\par
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At about that time, their name was called, and they were finally seated after they'd both lost a bit of their self-esteem in the midst of banter.\par
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Justin ordered his French toast, sausage, and chocolate milk - an entire day's worth of calories and fat - while Brian settled on orange juice and "two pancakes - plain - with strawberries on the side."\par
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"So, what all are we doing?" Justin asked around a straw, taking a nice, hard slurp of milk when he was done speaking. "You never answered earlier."\par
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"Killing you in your sleep and selling your organs on the black market."\par
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"Very funny. For real."\par
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"I'm serious." Brian played around with the syrup containers, taking his spoon and pouring a tiny bit of each flavor before licking it off. "Why do you think we're going to Ben's uncle's cabin? The snow up there helps with preservation."\par
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"Is this before or after I cut your balls off?"\par
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Brian laughed heartily, kicking Justin under the table.\par
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*\par
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The food came next, and it literally took the time needed to get through most of breakfast for Brian to give in and talk seriously about their weekend plans.\par
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"I've got the pot, Ben's getting the alky-hol," the brunet made the hand motion for drinking and then murmured a 'glug, glug.' "We may do other stuff, but all that's rather insignificant, don't you think?"\par
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Justin tried to control his nervous expression. He'd never been drunk before, never smoked pot, and here he was about to do both of those with the guy he happened to be kinda-sorta in love with. He hoped he didn't do anything stupid.\par
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"My mom would kill if she knew what we're gonna do," he whispered.\par
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"You've never been drunk before, have you?" Brian asked, plucking a syrupy banana slice from the blond's plate and tossing it into his mouth. He couldn't help but smirk.\par
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"Not really."\par
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"Not really?"\par
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Justin blushed. "Not at all."\par
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"Well, you'll be gone by the first drink, with your zero tolerance. Be afraid, be very afraid."\par
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"Afraid of what?"\par
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"Mmmmnothing. Just of waking up with one eyebrow or no leg hair or something like that."\par
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Justin laughed loudly. "I don't care about the eyebrow, but don't you dare touch my leg hair."\par
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"Because it took you soooo long to grow?"\par
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"Shut up."\par
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"Lemme see your legs. Roll up your pants. I bet you've still only got peach fuzz."\par
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The younger boy tucked his legs under the booth seat, turning red. Of course he had more than peach fuzz. Not much more, but hey, he was working on it.\par
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***\par
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After breakfast, the boys climbed into Brian's shitty Nissan, filled to the brim with duffel bags and food, and made their way to Debbie's house. Brian complained when Justin wanted to listen to Paula Abdul, because he would be fucking damned before he listened to that bimbo. He shoved in his Nirvana tape and cranked the volume up full blast.\par
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"But it's 'Straight Up!'" Justin yelled, trying to eject the tape.\par
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"Well, I'm straight up refusing to listen to it."\par
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*\par
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When they finally arrived, Justin all in a huff, arms crossed and face fixed and straight, Ben and Michael were already in the driveway, packing Ben's ugly-ass Dodge Ram van.\par
\par
"We were about to leave without you," Michael teased, giving Brian a quick kiss before going back to lugging coolers full of beer from the porch to the vehicle.\par
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"We're fashionably late."\par
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Justin climbed from the Nissan and moved around to tug his crap from the backseat, while Brian popped the trunk and started working on the food and bags full of hair product.\par
\par
"It's good to see you, Justin," Ben said, giving the teen a smile and quick wave. "All set?"\par
\par
The blond nodded with a grin, and almost said something in reply, but Brian butted in and charmingly told everyone that yes, Jennifer had packed his Garanimals and teddy bear named Gus, and then Justin got kind of pissed.\par
\par
"I'm really not above cutting off your balls," he said, deliberately-accidentally stepping on Brian's boot on the way back to the car.\par
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"Oh, the raging teenage hormones. I remember them well."\par
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*\par
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Once the van was locked and loaded, Debbie had left fiery red kiss-marks all over their cheeks, and all pockets were stuffed with road trip candy, the boys climbed into the vehicle.\par
\par
Moments later, Morrissey was blaring, the road was nothing but a faint rumble under tires, and they were out of there.\par
\par
***\par
\par
2.\par
\par
I. By ten o'clock, Justin had already decided that being fifteen was just about the worst thing that could happen to a person.\par
\par
And he really hadn't planned on being a whiny brat about it, either. So what if he was being perpetually ignored, and the only person who seemed to acknowledge his existence was Ben, and only because he kept asking if it was too cold in the backseat. Or too warm. Or if Justin needed to use the bathroom because apparently, he was six and not yet practiced in controlling his bodily functions. So what? He could deal. Justin knew the drill. He knew that he was fifteen and the other guys were twenty and up, and that the only reason he was on the trip in the first place was because it'd become some kind of tradition. He knew all of this, so yeah, he hadn't planned on being a little twat.\par
\par
But then after the conversation diverted from facial hair to blacking out at frat parties, after Brian told his fortieth dirty joke that you apparently had to be in college to get, and after Morrissey had been replaced by The White Album on cassette tape, Justin began to let loose with the sighs.\par
\par
He thumbed the eraser of his favorite drawing pencil, eyed the older boys warily in the rear view mirror, and it suddenly occurred to him that he could probably open the back door of the van and jump out without anyone knowing fucking anything. Yes, he was brooding, yes he was juvenile, but also yes, he was fifteen, and that was the excuse he was running with.\par
\par
"What are you huffing and puffing about?" Brian asked in the voice of a shrink to his psychotic patient. He reached over the seat back separating them and flicked his fingers at Justin's smooth, white forehead. "You're fogging the windows up."\par
\par
"I'm not huffing and puffing."\par
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"You're annoying the hell out of me. Stop."\par
\par
Justin rolled his eyes, sighed extra loud for effect, and penciled in another aglet on the picture of a pair of shoes he was sketching.\par
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\par
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II. By eleven, Michael was asleep, the cassette tape needed to be flipped over, and Justin was playing in Brian's hair.\par
\par
"If you don't fucking stop, I'm going to kill you."\par
\par
"Why don't you like it? Doesn't it feel good?"\par
\par
Brian turned around and shoved his fingers into Justin's floppy hair, rubbing his hands around furiously until the kid had two sizable knots protruding three inches off his head. "I don't know, does this feel good?"\par
\par
"Except that's so not what I was doing, asshole."\par
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"Everything still okay, Justin?" Ben asked, ever the kind, graduate student - ever the gentle father figure in the group of degenerates. His zen-ness, his "you're fifteen, let me take care of you" act was really beginning to piss Justin off.\par
\par
"Yes," he droned, grabbing one of Brian's fingers and twisting it in his.\par
\par
\par
\par
III. At noon, the boys stopped to pee and to grab chocolaty snacks at a service station, and Brian ended up taking over the wheel on the way out. It was a bumpy ride from then on.\par
\par
"Brian, I really don't mind continuing to drive," Ben said nervously, holding on to his seat for dear life.\par
\par
"Sht'up, I've got it," the twenty-year-old murmured quickly through a mouthful of Bear Claw. One hand rested shakily on the steering wheel while the other clutched a sticky plastic wrapper housing half an iced danish.\par
\par
"You've never driven the van before. It's a bit tricky and-"\par
\par
"Unbunch your panties. I'm perfectly capable of-"\par
\par
"We're all gonna die," Justin interrupted melodramatically, climbing over to join Michael in the first row of seats and buckling up. "Protect me, Mikey, I don't wanna die now. It ain't long enough. Fifteen years ain't gonna be long enough. Hell, I wouldn't care so-"\par
\par
"Shut up," Brian yelled, narrowly dodging a pothole.\par
\par
"Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold."\par
\par
\par
\par
IV. They somehow made it to the cabin at a little after one, in relatively good condition instead of in body bags, as suspected. Ben had practically chewed a hole through his bottom lip watching Brian dodge traffic and squirrels, road damage and fallen trees, and really, even though he hated his fucking van, hated the ugly thing, it was still...his.\par
\par
When the dusty, dirty roads turned to frozen grass and later on, the fluffy whiteness of mountainous terrain, everyone had shut up, gone stone still and silent. Mostly praying for their lives.\par
\par
By the time the boys were on their feet, wobbly with the bad driving equivalent of sea legs and kicking through three inches of thin, powdery snow, Brian was pissed, Justin was hungry, and Ben and Michael were just Ben and Michael, gushy in their flirtatious little looks, making Brian sick and Justin wistful.\par
\par
"Will you two get a fucking room before I puke?" Brian grumbled, slinging one bag over his shoulder and picking up another. "Christ, next thing you know, you'll be picking out rings."\par
\par
Michael stuck his tongue out at his friend with a devious grin.\par
\par
The boys pushed their way into the cabin, which was grand as far as cabins went. Two stories, clean wood, no bearskin rugs or moose heads but soft, chocolate-colored furniture with throw pillows and squishy, shag carpet. There was a common room-slash-kitchen and two bedrooms with full baths upstairs, and the entire bottom floor was one open space with pool tables, a massive television, and what appeared to be a jacuzzi covered with a protective tarp.\par
\par
"You have some uncle, don't you, Ben?" Brian asked, kicking open one of the bedroom doors and moving to throw his shit onto the king-sized bed.\par
\par
"This was his bachelor pad."\par
\par
"God, can you imagine all the het sex that's gone on here?"\par
\par
Justin cringed, entrails quivering as he set his backpack in the room Brian had chosen. He looked up for a second, blond locks falling into his eyes, and flinched a little at the look Brian was giving him. "What?"\par
\par
"What are you doing?"\par
\par
Justin shrugged. "Putting my stuff-"\par
\par
"Do you think you're sleeping with me or something?" Brian padded over, snatched up the kid's backpack, and walked it into the common area. "Get acquainted with the couch."\par
\par
"Don't be a prick," Michael said, giving Brian a look. "The beds are kings."\par
\par
"Which means they're not fit for princesses."\par
\par
Justin watched the exchange for a moment or two before rolling his eyes and making his way out the door to gather the rest of his things. Let the king have his castle. Sometimes it just wasn't worth it.\par
\par
Except when it was.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
Ben cooked some vegetarian linguine shit for late lunch, and honestly, Justin probably could've lived without it. He kicked the leg of Brian's chair under the table while examining the nasty greenish sauce smothered over his pasta.\par
\par
"Stop."\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
Brian kicked him in the shin. Hard. "You know what."\par
\par
Justin was about to say, "I don't think I do," when Michael jumped in about feeling healthier already, anything to make Ben feel good, and the table broke into laughter.\par
\par
"So what the fuck is this?" Brian asked, twirling a knot of noodles onto his fork and giving it a loud sniff. "That napkin is looking tastier and tastier by the second."\par
\par
Ben smirked, taking a seat with a mug of some of his herbal tea. "Pesto linguine."\par
\par
"You ever heard of spaghetti? Fettuccine?"\par
\par
"Chef Boyardee?" Justin murmured, receiving a glare from Michael.\par
\par
"I think it's delicious," Mikey said, slurping up - quite rudely - a scoop of noodles and giving his boyfriend a smile.\par
\par
"You would," Brian whispered.\par
\par
The boys managed to choke down the pasta - which okay, wasn't so bad - before changing into snow gear and heading out to explore the area.\par
\par
There wasn't enough precipitation to actually do anything, such as ski or ride around on the snow mobile stored in the little building behind the cabin, but one - Brian - could still pack handfuls of snow into a ball and shove it down another person's - Justin's - sweater.\par
\par
"You bastard!" Justin yelled, slapping at the older boy's chest and letting out a pissed laugh. "I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you." He jumped around in place, grabbing at the front of his thick sweater and shaking the snow off his chest, where it was already beginning to melt and turn his skin red.\par
\par
"You'll what?" Brian teased, scooping up more snow with gloved hands and packing together the fluffy whiteness.\par
\par
"Kill you."\par
\par
All four boys backed up into a challenging circle, eyeing the others since it was apparently on.\par
\par
"Hey, Michael!" Brian yelled, holding a snowball behind his back, waiting - just waiting - for the reflexive turn of the head which would ultimately equal a nice hunk of icy cold slapped to a cheek. "Mikey, look at me."\par
\par
Justin took this moment to his advantage, scraping snow down to the roots of grass into his blue mittens and, before even molding it into a proper ball, dashing across the yard and flinging all he had onto the top of Brian's head.\par
\par
Oh god. Ooooh god, was it on. Was it ever.\par
\par
"Fucking twat! You're paying for that!"\par
\par
Laughter drowned out Brian's uncomfortable groans, a flake fell, then another, and pretty soon it was just four boys - still boys, even at twenty and up - running around the yard of a warm, cozy cabin, pummeling each other with what was left of their current winter wonderland.\par
\par
"Shoulda worn a hat!" Justin yelled to Brian, who was still - five minutes later - complaining about his hair. The blond dodged Michael's snowball, dropped to his knees to make more of his own, and tossed a careless shot toward Ben which ended up only hitting his shoe.\par
\par
"I'll show you shoulda worn a hat," Brian said bitterly, taking long strides to Justin, who was still crouched on the ground, and pushing him over onto his back.\par
\par
"What're you doing?" He had time to ask, before a pile of snow covered his entire head.\par
\par
Sputtering, Justin flipped over onto his elbows, shaking his head to clear away the excess snow, and really, truly wanted to kill Brian Kinney. "I hate you," he said, not quite fondly, wiping away the icy flakes congregating in the corners of his nose.\par
\par
"That's what you get," Brian murmured, kicking the ground beside Justin and rolling his eyes when the kid just sat there, stunned, face red and raw with cold.\par
\par
"Well," the blond breathed, pulling up the front of his sweater to dry his skin, "you should have just gotten over it. It builds character." He climbed up, gave the older boy a bit of a teasing smirk, and made his way over to Ben and Michael, who were moving down the hill toward the forest.\par
\par
First, when the hell had Justin become such a little smartass? And second, when the hell had Justin become such a little smartass? Really, now.\par
\par
Brian stood, kicking at the muddy grass poking out from the snow, and watched his three friends - well, one friend and two other...people - talking halfway down the hill. Laughing. Justin poked Michael in the arm and grinned, hair long now, curling under his ears, face thinner, maybe a bit more...manly. Ish. Manlyish.\par
\par
He was almost sixteen and on the last leg of puberty. Brian figured he hopefully had one more growth spurt in him, but you know, this was...Justin. His voice had changed, his Adam's apple was more pronounced, Brian had seen a bit of golden armpit hair when the kid had taken off his T-shirt earlier, and he...\par
\par
Definitely wasn't thinking about this. Absolutely not. No, no, no.\par
\par
"Are you coming?" Michael called from the bottom of the hill, right on the edge of dark and light.\par
\par
Brian shoved wet gloves through his hair, mussing the damp, flat locks until he was marginally satisfied. "Yeah," he said, taking off down the hill, not looking at the blond kid wiggling his eyebrows at him teasingly.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
Justin found it funny that on every single trip he'd been on with Brian and Michael, they'd ended up in the woods at one point or another. The guys just kind of huffed a little when he announced this, but Justin really sort of thought it was their thing, if they had one.\par
\par
"Wanna make it permanent?" Brian asked, whipping out his knife and flipping it open dangerously close to Justin's face.\par
\par
"Excuse me?"\par
\par
The older male rolled his eyes at Justin's shock and moved over to a large, thick tree.\par
\par
"BK plus JT equals love?" Michael suggested with a laugh, nonchalantly bumping Ben with his hip. He was just asking for it.\par
\par
Brian narrowed his eyes. "Never taunt a man wielding a knife."\par
\par
"I'm kidding." Mikey laughed through his nose. "Here, let's all carve our names." He reached for Brian's knife, but wasn't able to grasp it because it was shut and put away in the blink of an eye.\par
\par
"How 'bout let's not," Brian said, an uncomfortable look on his face. "I was joking, anyway."\par
\par
Justin sighed and almost wished he hadn't said anything.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
3.\par
\par
"So you know Lindsay Peterson?" Brian asked Ben, wringing his hands around a tree limb and testing his weight. He lifted his feet slightly, allowed himself to gently swing a slow circle, and then dropped, boots pounding into the muddy white leaves. "From the art department? Blonde dyke?"\par
\par
"Yeeees." Ben raised an eyebrow and reached up to adjust the brown beanie cap on his head.\par
\par
"She definitely wants to fuck me."\par
\par
Michael laughed, giving his friend a quick elbow bump. "I thought you just said she was a dyke?"\par
\par
Brian shrugged. "I only speak of what I observe..."\par
\par
"She's into you?"\par
\par
"Are you surprised? Christ." Brian leaned back against a large, overpowering maple, and crossed his arms across his chest. It was fucking cold. His fingers felt blue. "She's in my Personal Adjustment class, right? Well, we got to talking about some shit like her fucking ex-girlfriend, and she was really into it and all up in my face -- sitting real close -- and I swear to God, she touched my dick."\par
\par
"No way." Justin kicked the snow at his feet, spraying Brian's pants with graying slush.\par
\par
"Why would I lie?"\par
\par
"Hmmm," Michael faux-pondered, stroking his chin. "Maybe because you're an arrogant asshole?"\par
\par
Brian stuck his tongue out at his friend and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. "Anyway, she did. Swear."\par
\par
Justin twisted his fingers together and watched Brian carefully. Watched as he tugged a crisp cigarette from a slightly flattened package and pressed it between his lips. Watched as he cupped his hand and lit the tip, took a loud, sucking drag, and shoved the lighter back into his pocket. Fuck, he was hot. So hot. Justin bit the tip of his tongue until it almost bled, and breathed deep. The smoke smelled like...Brian. Like leather and stubble, olive skin and sweat. Like spontaneous kisses on a porch swing at Christmas.\par
\par
"Y'know," Justin murmured, scratching at his cheek. "You probably shouldn't smoke in the middle of a forest."\par
\par
Brian rolled his eyes and took an even harder puff, hollowing his cheeks. He leaned down and blew the smoke into Justin's face until the boy was sputtering and coughing and complaining about his goddamn asthma. "You probably shouldn't be such a twat."\par
\par
Justin hated Brian so fucking much then. He stepped away, still coughing, rubbing his itching nose and watery eyes with the palm of his wet glove. Justin wanted Brian so fucking much then. Ugh.\par
\par
The boys took off again, walking at a somewhat slower pace, traipsing through the woods in boots that fumbled their way across the slick, musty earth. They didn't know where they were going, but Ben's uncle had a little shack somewhere that housed all his bird-watching equipment, and at some point somebody said something about it, and then they were all looking for an ugly little brown building right smack in the middle of the forest.\par
\par
They found it built crudely around a tree, and all four boys sat down on the skinny bench inside and sucked on their fingers to warm them up. Brian pulled out another cigarette.\par
\par
"Y'know, you probably shouldn't smoke in a wooden building in the middle of a forest," Justin teased, propping his boot up on Brian's thigh and wiggling his nose like a rabbit. It hurt, felt almost bitten, and Justin rubbed at it for a moment to get some circulation back.\par
\par
"Want one?" Brian asked, reaching for the pack in his front pocket.\par
\par
"Smoking gives you lung cancer."\par
\par
"You fucking want one."\par
\par
Justin narrowed his eyes, scrunched up his face, and finally shrugged.\par
\par
"Don't give him a cigarette," Ben warned in this little voice that Brian didn't take very seriously, because Ben wasn't being very serious, even though he tried to seem like he was. Yeah, Ben was all, "my body is my temple, drugs will harm my temple, excuse me while I eat miso soup while pumping iron to make my biceps burst through my T-shirt," but Christ, Brian had seen him do some crazy shit on more than a few occasions.\par
\par
Justin outstretched his palm and tried not to smile as he felt the cigarette roll across his fingertips. He felt wicked, old, and adrenaline began to course through his veins. He figured he'd smoke a cigarette, prove to Brian that he wasn't such a goody-goody, and that would be it. He brought the object to his lips, shoved it in between, and waited, nervous as hell, as Brian flipped out his lighter and ignited the stick.\par
\par
He sucked in, held it, held it, held it, oh fucking mother, blew it out so quickly his head turned into a blurry gray ball from a distance, and proceeded to cough so hard he was quite positive his lungs were now lodged at the back of his throat and his uvula was on the adjacent wall. He gagged. The smoke tasted bitter on his teeth, made him feel dizzy, and if Brian, Michael and Ben hadn't been laughing so hard, drowning out all sound, Justin was pretty sure he would've heard his heart fighting against his ribcage.\par
\par
Oh God. He was such a loser. Such a fucking loser. His cheeks were red, he wanted to die. Brian was looking at him like he was the dumbest dumbfuck who ever dumbed, and the other guys were giving him this sympathetic look that made Justin want to hurl. He shoved the cigarette back in, closed his eyes, and took another drag.\par
\par
His hands shook, he breathed slow and steady out his nose, coughing tears congregated in the corners of his eyes, and fuck, Brian was still staring at him with red cheeks and a half-smoked cigarette pinched between his fingers. His lungs quivered, he felt it, but held it down. In and out, in and out, slooooow. Justin's head swam and he tried not to cough again. Tried not to cough again. God.\par
\par
The cigarette glowed in the dim light inside the stupid little shack, and Justin squeezed it between two fingers, blowing out a stream of smoke and inhaling a cold, clean burst of air. He coughed once, twice, three times, and then took another quick drag.\par
\par
Brian snorted. Stupid little fuck. He was sitting there, having just hacked up a lung, smoking the rest of the cigarette in a half-assed, virginal fashion. Brian could tell Justin was trying to keep from coughing because the skin under his blond eyebrows was red with exertion. The cigarette was burning down, leaving behind way too fucking much ash on the end, and Brian was just about to reach for it and tap it off when the ash fell, dropping onto the ground. Justin's cheeks colored even more.\par
\par
"Having fun?" Brian asked with a smirk, kicking Justin's foot with his own and raising his eyebrows. His own cigarette was burning low, so he dropped it on the floor and crunched it out under his boot. Ben opened his mouth to protest, but Brian had already kicked it out the opening serving as a door and onto the snow.\par
\par
Justin sniffed, holding the cigarette out in front of him and examining the good inch and half he'd smoked. He felt oddly proud, even though he was pretty sure his lungs hurt and were already growing tumors. "Yes, actually," he murmured.\par
\par
"Mmmmhmmm." Brian grabbed the cigarette from between Justin's fingers and took a drag of his own.\par
\par
*****\par
\par
They left a few minutes later, each with a lung full of smoke -- secondhand or otherwise -- and trekked through the woods and back up the hill to the cabin, their outdoorsy exploration desires out of their systems for the moment.\par
\par
It was warm inside, but Justin still shook as he removed his snow clothes and tossed them on the hearth to dry. His fingertips were wrinkled, white prunes, and even his hair smelled like cold air and frozen water where it wasn't sweaty from his hat.\par
\par
"I'm about to starve," he told Michael, pulling off his sweatshirt and throwing it onto the couch -- his fucking bed -- before leaning down to grab a dry one from his duffle.\par
\par
Brian tried not to stare from afar, but he couldn't help it. The kid looked different when he wasn't being an annoying little baby twat. He carried himself in a different way, held his shoulders straight, and didn't slump as much. He had a good back, if you were into backs. Slender, not very defined, but...good.\par
\par
God, he needed a drink. Brian moved over to the alcohol stash and grabbed a bottle of beer.\par
\par
"Hey, get me one," Michael called, dropping down onto Justin's couch and curling his legs up under him. He snatched the remote from the coffee table and flipped on the television.\par
\par
"And get me like, an entire meal," Justin added, not quite joking. "Or Cheetos."\par
\par
"You eat like a stoner," Brian noted when he came back, tossing the Cheeto bag at Justin's head and wincing a little when it actually hit him. "Can't wait to get you high. There's no finer comedy than watching you smoke."\par
\par
"Oh, fuck you," Justin murmured, rubbing at his forehead before pulling open the bag. "I could've smoked the whole thing."\par
\par
"Yeah, and then gone into a full-fledged asthma attack."\par
\par
"Like you didn't cough your first time."\par
\par
"I was like, nine my first time."\par
\par
Michael stifled a laugh and kicked his feet up on the armrest. "Were not."\par
\par
Brian rolled his eyes and moved over to make room for Ben, who was trudging into the living room, freshly changed. "Or eleven."\par
\par
"Twelve," Michael challenged. "At Melissa Something-Something's party. You told me when we were fifteen and stoned on the bathroom floor."\par
\par
"Eleven, at Michelle Jefferson's party. She was such a fucking whore."\par
\par
"You touched her tits, didn't you? She was the one?"\par
\par
"The one and only." Brian shuddered. "Remind me to never play Truth or Dare again in the company of straight chicks. Gross."\par
\par
Justin laughed, shoving a Cheeto into his mouth and chomping down. "Or lesbian chicks like that Lindsay girl. If she actually touched your dick."\par
\par
"What, you think she didn't?"\par
\par
"I don't know what I think." Justin raised a teasing eyebrow. "Why would she?"\par
\par
Ben laughed at that before taking a sip of his Tazo tea and swallowing down the hot liquid. "Lindsay's a nice girl."\par
\par
"Lindsay's a horny bitch," Brian said offhandedly, stretching out on the adjacent sofa to Justin's and dropping his feet down in Ben's lap. Michael glared for a second, but wiped it away real fast when Brian looked his way. "I'd fuck her, though."\par
\par
Justin gagged. "Are you trying to make me hurl?"\par
\par
"But I draw the line at licking pussy. Sick."\par
\par
"I draw the line at saying the words 'licking' and 'pussy' in the same sentence."\par
\par
Brian nodded in agreement, then pulled out another cigarette and lit up.\par
\par
At some point, it began to snow. The sky grayed, turned dark around the mountains even though it was barely four, and soft flakes started teetering their way from the sky, landing in sloppy little splats all over the previously dusted grass. Justin made hot chocolate for everyone -- his grandmother's special kind -- and curled up on the couch across from Brian, while Ben and Michael shared the recliner.\par
\par
"I'm going back out later," Brian said, pointing out the window. "Is there a particular reason why you aging fags are cuddled up for a long winter's night?"\par
\par
"I'm going back out, too," Justin shot in, sitting up straight as if to prove that he wasn't yet settled in. "But it's cozy."\par
\par
"You're lazy."\par
\par
"I'm on vacation."\par
\par
"You're a freak."\par
\par
"You're an asshole."\par
\par
"Since when are assholes so bad?"\par
\par
"You're incorrigible."\par
\par
"Oooh. Big word."\par
\par
"Fuck you."\par
\par
"Later."\par
\par
Justin flat-out laughed. Or, he would've flat-out laughed if his heartbeat hadn't just gone flat. He bit at his lip and then buried his nose in his mug, drinking down half his hot chocolate even though he probably should've been drinking something cold.\par
\par
"So when you guys are done flirting, I'd like to say something," Ben said, giving Michael a look, as if they were conspiring.\par
\par
"That wasn't..." Brian started to say, but then Ben wasn't letting Brian finish and he was getting all flustered, so he simply rolled his eyes, and with a heavy sigh, grumbled, "What?"\par
\par
"Uncle Steve gave us free reign of the jacuzzi."\par
\par
"Fucking yes."\par
\par
Justin suddenly got very excited.\par
\par
*****\par
\par
They went out again after dinner -- which consisted of pizza and microwave french fries, thank you very much. The snow had fallen in a thick blanket over the land, transforming every remotely flat surface into a sparkling marshmallow fluff, and as Justin stepped out, feeling his boots crunch into the precipitation, his fingers began to ache to fucking draw and draw. But he knew he couldn't capture it. Couldn't capture the sparkles or the way the porch lights cut a jagged line through the plane of white.\par
\par
"What the fuck are you doing?" Brian asked, striding up to the boy and bumping him in the shoulder. "You look constipated."\par
\par
Justin rolled his eyes. "Just thinking."\par
\par
"Well, come think over here with me, because we're going to annihilate Mr. and Mrs. Novotny-Bruckner over there." Brian showed Justin the snowball he was rolling in his fist, then motioned toward Ben and Michael, who were kissing under the snowflakes. "Fucking saps."\par
\par
Justin thought Ben and Michael were kind of sweet in their own way. He certainly wouldn't mind Brian kissing him in the snow. So romantic. He wondered if Brian would ever kiss him again -- like he had three years ago. Even if Justin had to ask for it, even if he had to whine like a baby about wanting to kiss someone, maybe Brian would...\par
\par
"You coming?"\par
\par
Justin jumped. "Hmm? Oh. Yeah." He shook his head, breathed in the frozen air, and followed Brian behind the pile of chopped wood, where he crouched down and began stuffing snow into misshapen balls.\par
\par
"Look at them," Brian whispered, pointing a gloved finger toward the couple, who were hugging -- blissfully -- and kissing as flakes dropped onto their hats and speckled them with white. "Gag."\par
\par
"They're in love."\par
\par
"Oh God, you're one of them."\par
\par
Justin snorted and bumped Brian's arm with an elbow. "Not hardly. But, y'know..." He looked into Brian's face. "It could be nice."\par
\par
"That's what people tell themselves. It's all bullshit. People want to fuck, not stand around and hug like two idiots."\par
\par
Justin sighed. He totally wanted to stand around and hug like an idiot. God, he was a fucking sap. Precisely what Brian hated. "Yeah," he found himself agreeing in a quiet voice, studying the pile of snowballs in front of him. "I guess."\par
\par
Brian didn't buy Justin at all. He laughed at the boy through his nose and stared at him hard, looking into his icy blue eyes for truth. Sucking at his teeth, Brian grabbed the collar of Justin's coat, gently pulling him closer. The kid was so fucking into him he looked like he was about to swoon any second. Little fucker.\par
\par
Justin was pretty sure he was having a myocardial infarction. Myocardial infarction. That sounded so much cooler than "heart attack." Was Brian going to kiss him? Kiss him? Brian? Again? Oh, sweet Jesus. He held his breath as Brian pulled him closer and closer, and poised himself for kissing, hoping he still remembered how to do it. God, he hadn't kissed since he was twelve. That was three, almost four years ago, and Justin wasn't even sure if he knew where to put his lips -- top or bottom? -- or whether or not to use tongue or if he should touch Brian's face or keep his hands at his sides. But then he focused his eyes on Brian's reddish-pink lips and fuck, holy fuck, Brian was going to kiss him.\par
\par
Justin's throat shut down, tongue twisted about until it was basically a dry knot, and Brian's face was moving closer and closer to his own and...\par
\par
Shit.\par
\par
Brian pushed Justin away the second the kid closed his eyes to be kissed, and laughed low in his belly. Stupid, stupid twat. "I knew it," he said, scooping up three of his snowballs and shoving them into the pockets of his coat. "Liar."\par
\par
Justin's cheeks reddened beyond belief, a stinging sweat breaking out at his temples. The asshole! Goddamn motherfucking asshole! "Fuck you," he murmured, grabbing a snowball of his own and crushing it between his palms. "Fuck. You."\par
\par
"Listen," Brian whispered, pushing one more snowball into his jacket. "Love doesn't exist. It's something straight people say they're in so they can go out and get laid without feeling guilty."\par
\par
"Whatever. Let's just..." Justin grabbed the remainder of his snowballs, completely and totally mortified, and took off toward Ben and Michael, who were practically doing it in the middle of a winter wonderland.\par
\par
Brian stayed back and watched the kid for a minute. Watched as he stood there in the snow, hands in his pockets but frozen, looking like a creepy little voyeur with nervous red cheeks and bitten lips. Watched as he glanced back at the woodpile and then down at his shoes. Were his eyes fucking watering? Was he crying? Christ, the kid was stupid.\par
\par
Justin shivered, pulled out a snowball, and Brian took that as his cue to join him.\par
\par
He stood, dashed over to Justin, but before he could join the kid on his mission, before they could band together to take down the kissing lovers, he was being pummeled. By something white. And cold. And wet. Twat!\par
\par
A snowball hit Brian right in the neck where his skin was exposed, and chunks of ice rolled down under his coat, into his sweater, and melted into a freezing stream that trickled down his belly until it reached the top of his pants.\par
\par
"Fuck you!" Brian yelled, trying to move out of the way, but he couldn't. He was exposed, too far away from the woodpile to make a dash without becoming an immediate target, and Justin was reaching into his coat pocket, grabbing another snowball, packing it until it was even harder, raising his arm... "Don't you fucking dare!"\par
\par
Brian took off running, but the moment he turned, he felt a snowball hit him in the back and heard a pair of boots chasing him, gaining on him. He was hit again, this time in the leg, and he snorted, biting his lip, and reached in to grab a snowball of his own. It was melting in his pocket, but he squeezed it, getting it back into shape, and did a quick duck and twirl, throwing the ball at the kid, who was a few feet away, looking a mixture of pissed and amused. Pissmused.\par
\par
He missed, fucking missed, and Brian took off again, dashing toward the side of the cabin, pulling out two more snowballs as he ran. Snow crunched under his boots, slid across the earth, and then there was no snow, because Brian was standing under the roof overhang where no precipitation had managed to land. It was drippy there, wet and filled with muddy leaves, but he was at least a little hidden, out of the porch light and pressed up against the building.\par
\par
He heard Justin running, then heard him stop, then walk one step, then another and another, and then Brian saw him, holding his last snowball -- no match to Brian's two -- and slowly spinning, searching the area for the older boy.\par
\par
Brian tried not to laugh. Justin looked so lost, so small, and he almost -- almost -- didn't have the heart to throw both snowballs at the kid at once. Almost. He squeezed the snowballs in his hands, and in one swift motion, sent them soaring through the air, twisting and twirling their way to their final destination.\par
\par
Justin jumped when the snowballs hit him in the hip -- scaring the shit out of him -- and came this close to dropping his own snowball by accident. He narrowed his eyes, murmuring "fucker" under his breath, and spotted the gray-black shape in the even blacker darkness up against the side of the cabin.\par
\par
"You're such a dick," he whispered, laughing angrily through his nose. "Such a fucking dick."\par
\par
"What the fuck did I do?" Brian pushed away from the building and made his way over to the kid, who had thrown his snowball onto the ground and kicked at it pathetically.\par
\par
"You're a dick."\par
\par
"Why am I a dick?"\par
\par
Justin shrugged, taking three steps backward until the back of his head lit up with the yellow glow of the porch light. He looked almost ethereal, illuminated in a pale shine. "You just are."\par
\par
Brian sighed. "Stupid kid."\par
\par
"Dick."\par
\par
"Stupid twat."\par
\par
"Diii-iiick." Justin snorted, taking a step closer to Brian and a step away from the light. He was dark now, nothing but an outline in the deep gray of night, and Brian wanted to push him back...push him back into the glow.\par
\par
"You ruined my plan," Brian whispered, braving to reach out and tug a lock of the kid's hair. "Ben and Michael are probably over there fucking by now."\par
\par
"Let 'em fuck."\par
\par
"When did you get such a dirty mouth?"\par
\par
"Dunno." Justin shrugged, fighting a grin, fighting the butterflies having sex in his stomach. "I think maybe on a camping trip I went on with two assholes a couple years ago."\par
\par
Brian nodded. "You were young then."\par
\par
"Young, but not stupid."\par
\par
"Young and stupid."\par
\par
"Young and sure."\par
\par
"Sure about what?"\par
\par
"You."\par
\par
4.\par
Brian didn\rquote t look at Justin after that.\par
\par
He pushed past the kid, who was standing there in the frigid darkness, and somehow made his way back into the cabin despite that fact that there was a six-inch cloud of fog surrounding his head. Stupid little twat who didn\rquote t know shit. Pathetic kid who thought he could just waltz right in and take over.\par
\par
Brian rolled his eyes at himself as he shoved open his bedroom door and began removing his outdoor wear. Who the fuck was he kidding, really? This was Justin. Stupid, stupid Justin with the white-blond hair and eyes that were too damn old for his own good. This was the little creepy stalker who\rquote d wormed his way into the Brian-Michael party and acted so casual about it\emdash so confident, like he belonged there between two guys five years his senior instead of in the teenage, boy band bedroom of that girl with the poofy hair and knowing smile. This was Justin Taylor with the too-light eyebrows and virginal\'a1\'adeverything, who asked to be kissed and wouldn\rquote t fucking give up until it actually happened. Twat. Stupid, stupid twat.\par
\par
This time, Brian wasn\rquote t giving in.\par
\par
He\rquote d given in on that first camping trip with Wonder Whacker, but only because he hadn\rquote t been as smart then. He\rquote d been smart, but not smart enough. Seventeen-year-olds don\rquote t exactly have the best judgment when it comes to kissing.\par
\par
Fuck. Brian tore off his beanie cap and dropped it in the messy pile of clothing already accumulated on the floor by the bed. He pulled off his coat, kicked his boots off somewhere under the bed, and sauntered back into the common room for a beer. Or many.\par
\par
Except he was there, standing in the kitchen with his back pushed up against the countertop, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Snow melted off his boots, forming gray-brown sludge on the linoleum floor, and his hair was stringy and wet beneath the ugly black hat with the fucking red pom-pom on the end.\par
\par
"Is this really necessary?" Brian asked, shoving past the kid in attempts to make it to the fridge. He jerked open the stainless steel door and pulled out one\emdash make that two\emdash bottles of Guinness, and bumped the door shut again with his bare foot.\par
\par
Justin made a grab for one of the beers, thinking it was for him, and Brian pushed him away. "Mine," he said, making his way across the kitchen area and into the living room. He dropped down onto the couch, kicked his feet up on the coffee table, and switched on the television.\par
\par
"You know," Justin murmured, reaching into the refrigerator himself to grab a beer and walking across the separation between the linoleum floor of the kitchen and the carpet of the living room. "You\rquote re an asshole."\par
\par
Brian rolled his eyes. "Tell me something you haven\rquote t already told me four thousand times."\par
\par
Justin smirked and sat down on the other couch across from Brian. "Are you mad at me?"\par
\par
"For what?"\par
\par
"For\'a1\'ad" Justin mimicked snowball throwing with his free hand.\par
\par
Brian took a long, hard gulp of his beer and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "You\rquote re an annoying little twat who doesn\rquote t know shit."\par
\par
"Wow. Thanks."\par
\par
"So just cut it out. Listen to what I fucking told you out there, because it\rquote s the truest thing you\rquote ll ever know."\par
\par
Justin stared at Brian for a moment, fidgeting with the slick neck of his beer bottle, and shrugged. He was never going to listen. Never going to believe.\par
\par
"Give me that." Brian said, reaching across the coffee table toward Justin\rquote s unopened Guinness.\par
\par
"What? Why?"\par
\par
The man magically pulled out a bottle opener from the pocket of his jeans and twisted it between two fingers. "You plan on chewing off the cap?"\par
\par
Justin smiled, handing over his drink, and watched as Brian popped off the top and took a swig, before sliding it back across the coffee table.\par
\par
He wasn\rquote t sure how to go about this, because he\rquote d never drank. Sure, there\rquote d been teensy glasses of champagne at weddings, and that one time Daphne snuck a can of Budweiser from her dad\rquote s secret mini fridge, but this was social drinking. He was supposed to be a man, not make a face at the taste, and drink down the bottle over a conversation about\'a1\'adsex or something. Only, he\rquote d never had sex, so that part was out.\par
\par
"Don\rquote t tell me you\rquote ve never had alcohol before," Brian murmured, opening his own bottle and tossing the slightly bent cap onto the floor for someone to step on with bare feet later. "Justin, meet beer. Beer, meet Justin."\par
\par
The kid laughed and tapped his fingers against the Guinness label. "I have, thank you very much."\par
\par
"Then by all means, drink away." The amused expression on Brian\rquote s face was evident, even though he was trying to hide it. He watched, lips poised, as Justin took a small sip of beer and swallowed, then knitted his eyebrows together for a second, as if fighting something, before shrugging.\par
\par
"You hate it, don\rquote t you?" Brian asked with a smirk, kicking Justin\rquote s boot with his own bare foot under the coffee table.\par
\par
"It\rquote s fine," Justin replied in a slightly higher pitched voice. He took another swallow, then another, curling his toes in his boots the entire time.\par
\par
"Here, let\rquote s try something else."\par
\par
*****\par
\par
Justin really enjoyed flavored vodka.\par
\par
He especially enjoyed flavored vodka straight from the bottle, drank whilst leaning against Brian\rquote s side on the couch, while Ben and Michael drank something else that Justin didn\rquote t know the name of and danced to The Kinks on the stereo. He liked that. He liked that a lot.\par
\par
He couldn\rquote t tell if he as drunk or not, but he thought probably he was. He hadn\rquote t had much, really, but his head was a little light and he felt warm in the pit of his stomach. That, and when he spoke, he had a bit of trouble pronouncing certain words, and he blinked a lot because his eyes wouldn\rquote t open fully.\par
\par
Brian laughed whenever Justin leaned backward and looked up at him, a pink spot on his upper lip from sucking at the glass bottle, and tried to tell him that he thought maybe he was drunk, but ended up sounding all slurred and childish.\par
\par
"Think you are, too," Brian said, pulling the bottle away and taking a swallow himself. He sat it on the coffee table and maneuvered Justin until he was sitting upright and no longer flopped across his lap.\par
\par
"More," the kid said, reaching for the Smirnoff.\par
\par
"Go visit with the married couple over there." Brian tried to push him off the couch and over toward Ben and Michael, who were practically screwing on the hearth of the fireplace.\par
\par
"More, please."\par
\par
"You sound four when you\rquote re drunk."\par
\par
"I\rquote m fisseen and thur-ee cores."\par
\par
"You\rquote re four."\par
\par
"I\rquote m base-lee sev-teen."\par
\par
"You\rquote re not even sixteen."\par
\par
"Base-lee I think I'm drunk."\par
\par
"Lightweight."\par
\par
"Are yooouuu drunk?"\par
\par
"I'm not a lightweight."\par
\par
Justin seemed to get bored then, for he climbed off the couch and started taking off his shirt. "Hot in here," he said, tossing the green thermal into Brian's lap and then flopping back down on the couch.\par
\par
Brian checked the tag on Justin's shirt: X-Small. Christ. He wadded it up into a ball and tossed it at Justin's head.\par
\par
"Heeeeey!" Justin yelled, annoyed, grabbing at a pinch of his shirt fabric and using the article of clothing to swing at Brian's face. "Be nice."\par
\par
"Go drink some water."\par
\par
Justin reached for the Smirnoff bottle.\par
\par
"Water," Brian repeated, smacking Justin's hand away and shoving him off the couch. "You'll be annoying as hell tomorrow if you don't."\par
\par
Justin sauntered off into the kitchen and returned no less than five minutes later with an unopened bottle of Absolut and a wide grin.\par
\par
"What is with you and vodka?" Brian asked, setting his own beer bottle down on the coffee table and taking the Absolut from the kid, who frowned. "Just because it's clear, doesn't mean it's water." Stupid fucking child. He stood from the couch and walked Justin back into the kitchen, where he made the boy drink two bottles of water before he let him go.\par
\par
*****\par
\par
Things started winding down at around one, when the Kink's albums had already been played multiple times, the Cheeto's bag was empty, and Brian had actually managed a buzz.\par
\par
Justin was flopped out on the sofa, pants for some reason rolled up to his knees, revealing his fuzzy legs and boyishly bruised knees. He wasn't asleep -- just in a weird, limbo-ish, buzzy state that wasn't quite drunk, wasn't quite sober. His body still felt drunk, this kind of uncontrollably horny feeling, but his head was beginning to clear a little, at least.\par
\par
Michael was in Ben's lap, laughing at something he was whispering, and the fire cracked and popped, shooting out sparks every once in a while that floated through the air before landing on the stone hearth and disappearing.\par
\par
"I'm taking the snowmobile out tomorrow," Brian randomly announced, adjusting the position of his foot on the coffee table and accidentally knocking over an empty bottle of beer. "Works, right?"\par
\par
"Mmm, yeah," Ben said, rubbing at his face. "Kinda tricky, though. Engine cuts off sometimes and you've gotta mess with it."\par
\par
"So it's a piece of shit?"\par
\par
"It's not that new, you know."\par
\par
"Whatever." Brian swallowed, his tongue thick, and sniffed. "We'll send Justin out, then."\par
\par
"What?" The kid asked, hearing his name. His throat was gravely, no doubt from serenading the rest of the crew with Paula Abdul's greatest hits a few hours prior.\par
\par
Brian snorted. "You don't know anything about snowmobiles, do you?"\par
\par
"No."\par
\par
"Good." He turned to Ben. "We'll try it out on Justin."\par
\par
Ben rolled his eyes and smiled, looking over at Justin fondly. "On that note," he said, tugging at a lock of Michael's hair. "I'm going to head to bed."\par
\par
"We're going to head to bed," Michael corrected, wiggling his eyebrows up and down with a grin. He leaned in and began kissing Ben's neck, right where it curved into his strong, muscular shoulder.\par
\par
Brian scoffed. "Well, hurry up before I have to watch you fuck right here."\par
\par
"You should be so lucky," Ben murmured, taking his boyfriend by the hand and leading him toward the bedroom.\par
\par
And then it was the two of them.\par
\par
Brian turned his head to glance at Justin, who looked about seven, all curled up in a pile of couch cushions with his hair hanging in his face. "How you feeling?" He asked the kid, stretching his leg out to tap Justin's foot with his big toe.\par
\par
"Horny."\par
\par
Brian pulled his leg back so quickly he ended up banging his knee on the coffee table.\par
\par
"And weird. And spinny. And like I really have to pee but if I move I might throw up."\par
\par
"Do you realize how little alcohol you actually consumed? I drank twice as much as you and I'm barely buzzed."\par
\par
"Shut up."\par
\par
Brian smiled. "Sing 'Cold Hearted' again."\par
\par
"Sh'tup!"\par
\par
"He's a cold hearted snake."\par
\par
"Paula totally wrote that song for you."\par
\par
"That's what you think."\par
\par
"What's that s'posed to mean?"\par
\par
Brian snorted, picked up a balled up paper towel, and tossed it at Justin.\par
\par
"Stop! I'm gonna puke."\par
\par
"You're not gonna puke."\par
\par
"I am."\par
\par
"You weren't even that drunk."\par
\par
"I'm still drunk."\par
\par
"I think you're faking."\par
\par
"I'm not faking."\par
\par
"He's a cooold hearted snake..."\par
\par
"I hate you."\par
\par
Brian stood, chuckling, and stretched out his back. "I'm going to bed."\par
\par
"Fine. Leave me here to choke on my puke and die."\par
\par
"Lie on your side."\par
\par
Justin sat up straight, looking slightly pitiful -- if it all wasn't an act, of course -- and grabbed the blankets and pillow from the floor by the couch where Ben had placed them earlier.\par
\par
"'night," Brian said, giving a quick wave before turning and sauntering off to the bedroom. He rolled his eyes once he had the door closed, and pulled off his pants and shirt on the way to the bed.\par
\par
Once he was under the covers, he stretched out and switched off the lamp, practically holding his breath for what he knew was ultimately coming. There was no way it wasn't.\par
\par
And then, there it was.\par
\par
A quick knock, then the thumpthumpthumpthump of fingers drumming against the wood of the door.\par
\par
"What are you doing?" Brian asked, burying his head in his pillow, not watching as the door opened and the stupid little twat slipped in.\par
\par
"I've decided I'm not sleeping on the couch," Justin replied, shutting the door behind him and moving over to the dresser where earlier he'd placed his pajamas.\par
\par
"Imagine that."\par
\par
Justin smiled secretly, grabbing his T-shirt and shorts and walking with them into the bathroom to change.\par
\par
He stared at himself in the mirror for a while once he was down to his underwear. He was kind of hot, he thought. Looked a little too young and innocent, but hot, yeah.\par
\par
He shrugged, pulled on his PJs, and made his way back into the bedroom, stomach twisting into knots.\par
\par
"If you touch me," Brian said, pulling back the covers for Justin to crawl under, "I'll kill you."\par
\par
"'kay," Justin whispered, carefully sliding in, trying to keep himself from puking his guts up all over his pillow.\par
\par
It was going to be a long night.\par
\par
\par
5.\par
\par
The problem with sharing a bed with Justin was not the sharing a bed part. The problem didn't lie in the fact that Justin was physically there, really. It was the fact that, while he was there, he talked. And talked. And talked. So much that Brian was two seconds away from balling up a stinky sock and shoving it in the kid's mouth.\par
\par
Also, when Justin talked, he gesticulated wildly with his hands and, strangely, his feet, so his cold little toes kept brushing against Brian's under the covers.\par
\par
That was annoying.\par
\par
"Feel free to stop anytime," Brian murmured, groaning into his pillow. "It's fucking two, and I've been up since five because your mother decided to drop you off at my place."\par
\par
Justin pursed his lips. Brian could really be a fucking asshole sometimes. Or all the time. Or most of all the time, anyway.\par
\par
The kid sighed and twisted over onto his belly. The bedsheets smelled slightly moldy, like they hadn't been washed in a few years, and he honestly didn't really like the idea of shoving his face into the fabric of an unwashed pillowcase for eight hours.\par
\par
"I wonder how much sex has been had in this bed," he whispered offhandedly, bringing an arm up to rest his head on. "Probably a ton. Hetero sex. Blegh." He cringed.\par
\par
"Exactly what I wanna be thinking about at two in the fucking morning while I'm trying to sleep and pretend that the sheets don't smell like a sweating pussy."\par
\par
Justin laughed loudly, turning over to look at Brian in the dark. The other male's chest was jumping a little in a suppressed sort of chuckle, but his face was straight and still as stone.\par
\par
Oh, Justin liked him.\par
\par
"I bet these sheets have never been washed," he breathed, braving to poke Brian's chest. "Don't think there's a washer or dryer here, so..."\par
\par
"Sick!"\par
\par
Justin burst out laughing, sniffing a little with accidental snot flow. "So if we wake up in the morning and find stains..."\par
\par
"It'll probably be where you've come four hundred times in your sleep, you little hormone."\par
\par
The boy's cheeks turned red and he reached a hand up to cover his face.\par
\par
Brian snorted. "You still embarrassed by that shit?"\par
\par
Justin shrugged one shoulder and turned over onto his back. "Just blush easily."\par
\par
"Yeah right."\par
\par
"It's true."\par
\par
"Whatever."\par
\par
The kid smiled, staring up at the ceiling above. Speaking of things that make him blush...\par
\par
"So I have a question," he said quietly, crossing his ankles under the covers.\par
\par
"And I don't like the sound of that."\par
\par
Justin huffed a laugh and rubbed his hands across his face. "Does sex...hurt?"\par
\par
Brian froze, absently grabbing onto a hunk of disgusting sheet, and bit at his bottom lip furiously. Christ, the kid never changed. Always with the questions, always with the red face. He sighed. "A little bit."\par
\par
Nodding, Justin sucked at his teeth. He didn't say anything.\par
\par
"You planning on doing the deed anytime soon?" Brian asked, trying to be playful.\par
\par
"Mmm, no. Just wondering."\par
\par
"I bet your cheeks are the color of Debbie's wig."\par
\par
"Yeah." Justin smiled, embarrassed. He looked over at Brian, who was propped up on an elbow, and scrunched his nose at him.\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
The kid shrugged. "Nothing."\par
\par
"Twat." Brian reached out and poked his forehead.\par
\par
"Brian?"\par
\par
"Yeah?"\par
\par
"What's it like?"\par
\par
"What's what like?"\par
\par
"You know..."\par
\par
"Fucking?"\par
\par
Justin nodded.\par
\par
"Depends on which end you're on."\par
\par
"Which feels better?"\par
\par
"They're both..." Brian sighed, not believing he was actually having that conversation at that moment with that person. Fuck. "It just depends on what you like best. What kinda mood you're in."\par
\par
"Oh," Justin murmured, biting at his thumbnail. "Cool."\par
\par
"Toootally awesome." Brian rolled his eyes. "Anyway, shut up and go to sleep."\par
\par
"Forgive me for asking you a perfectly valid question."\par
\par
"Ask what you want. Whatever. But some other time when I'm not batshit-crazy-exhausted and lying in a dark room with you not a foot away."\par
\par
"I'm not going to attack you, you know." Justin tried to hold in his laughter. "And if I did, would it be sooo bad?"\par
\par
"You're twelve. Go to sleep."\par
\par
"I'm almost sixteen."\par
\par
"I thought you were drunk."\par
\par
"I'm...better."\par
\par
"You so weren't that drunk. Ten bucks says you were buzzed and just convinced yourself you were plastered."\par
\par
"I was drunk!"\par
\par
"Goodniiiight, Justin."\par
\par
"You'll be sorry if I fall asleep on my back and choke on my puke. So sorry."\par
\par
"It'll be a lot fucking quieter, that's for sure."\par
\par
"You..." Justin snorted, flopping onto his stomach. He stretched out his legs, fuzzy knee bumping Brian's bare thigh, and yawned.\par
\par
"Don't touch me. Sudden death, remember?"\par
\par
"Yeah, okay." The kid smiled into the pillow that probably still had creepy hairs from various affairs.\par
\par
"Shut up and go to sleep. No more talking."\par
\par
"'night, Brian."\par
\par
"Good-fucking-night."\par
\par
*****\par
\par
Brian was never one to watch people in their sleep.\par
\par
Frankly, he always thought it was kind of creepy when he'd wake up to find a trick staring at him. But then there he was, at twelve past four in the morning, watching Justin's lips move as he mumbled something unintelligible.\par
\par
Who the fuck knew that Justin talked in his sleep, and why the fuck hadn't they told him? Or more importantly, why the fuck was Justin in his bed in the first place? Jesus.\par
\par
The kid lay there, legs kicked out from under the covers and arms stretched practically across the width of the bed -- narrowly avoiding Brian, who was curled into his tiny corner of the king-sized mattress. He'd whisper something, then his head would jerk, and then there'd be this weird puff of air forced out his nostrils like he'd been holding in a laugh but finally burst.\par
\par
He was obviously having a good dream, for every once in a while, Justin would break into this wide grin that practically split his face in two.\par
\par
Brian rolled his eyes and stretched up on an elbow, peering out the window. It must've snowed a hell of a lot, for it was quite bright outside, the moon reflecting off the blanket of white and turning everything the color of a washed-out glow.\par
\par
"Hhhh."\par
\par
Brian raised an eyebrow and looked over at Justin, who'd just exhaled loudly. The kid squirmed a little, squeezing his legs tightly together and then spreading them out again.\par
\par
Oh, shit.\par
\par
He kept making these little noises -- each one voiceless, breathy, but clearly indicative of a very good dream, indeed. He'd lick his lips and let out a shaky breath, before gently wiggling his hips against the mattress.\par
\par
Brian had been joking about the coming four hundred times in his sleep thing. Christ, that was exactly what he needed, to lie in bed next to an overly hormonal teenager while the kid had a sex dream. Just fucking great.\par
\par
What was he supposed to do? Do nothing, say nothing, and watch Justin writhe until he eventually came? In the bed. On the mattress. Less than a foot away from where Brian lay. God, and the kid's shorts would get all sticky and then he'd get it on the sheets -- the sheets that had never been and could never be washed. Ugh.\par
\par
Of course, it wasn't like Justin could help it, because he couldn't. Brian got that. But it was fucking inconvenient and pretty goddamn uncomfortable, to be honest. Stupid little twat having a stupid little sex dream -- probably about Brian, if truth were told -- and making these stupid little noises that sounded a mix between out of breath and on the edge. And then Justin'd move one of his arms from where it rested, stretched out at Brian's side, and let it flop across his stomach, or chest, or one time his hips. His fingers would curl around the fabric of his shirt or pants, whichever at the moment, and then release.\par
\par
Brian really didn't want to know what the kid was dreaming about. He didn't want to think about it because it was just...weird. The noises were too much, already -- those faint, uhhhh little noises that rarely crossed over from breathy -- and then Justin was squeezing his thighs together really tight, and squirming, and God, Brian was going to have to do something. Or go somewhere. Because he was not going to lie there while Justin came all over himself. Was not going to watch Justin sweat, or start touching himself in his sleep, or bite his lips with those white teeth.\par
\par
Oh, fuck. Ooooh, fuck. Brian wanted to scream.\par
\par
He sat up straight in bed, careful not to disturb the kid -- or at least accidentally touch him, because that would be all sorts of wrong -- but then Justin's hand started to creep, and Brian forgot to breathe.\par
\par
The covers were pulled up to Justin's hips -- his legs out from under them and twisted around so that the boy would probably have to untwist to free himself in the morning -- so you really couldn't see much of anything interesting as far as below the waist went. If you were looking, of course. But Justin's right hand began to trail down under, and suddenly it was all very evident.\par
\par
That faint bulge was actually not just a shadow or a random position of the comforter. It was... Yeah. It was that.\par
\par
Brian closed his eyes for a moment, contemplated sliding out of bed and retreating to the bathroom, but for some reason that he would probably regret later, he stayed. Lowered himself back into a lying position, even. And turned to face Justin.\par
\par
Christ. This was fucking fucked. Fucking fucked up.\par
\par
The kid smiled when he seemed to reach his destination, and Brian had to stifle a laugh. But then he wasn't laughing anymore when Justin's hand began moving in this slow, rubbing motion. Not quite up and down, not quite side to side, but circular. Squeezing and rubbing.\par
\par
Justin sighed loudly, his breath picking up a little and the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead becoming more and more prominent in the dim glow of snowy moonlight.\par
\par
Brian swallowed, watching -- Christ, watching?! -- as the kid rubbed himself off through the material of blue shorts with tiny navy stripes. And he was not getting aroused. Not in the slightest. That little tingling sensation in his groin had nothing to do with the sight whatsoever.\par
\par
But then Justin stuck his left hand inside his shorts, while his right remained on top, and Brian didn't really know what was going on. He knew that he needed to get out of bed, needed to go into the bathroom and shut the door until the kid was finished, but he remained there, watching.\par
\par
Watching as Justin's body curled and flipped a little, the comforter sliding completely off his hips now so that his activities were fully exposed. Watching as the boy's left hand moved up and down inside his shorts and the right patted around somewhere in the vicinity of his groin. Watching as the front of his shorts came down a little and an inch of browny-blond pubic hair appeared. Watching as Justin let out a breathy laugh, followed by a sharp intake of breath, followed by a quiet, "uuh."\par
\par
And Brian really didn't know what to do, by now. He could feel himself stirring a bit down there, like his cock wanted to get hard but he didn't want it to, so it was stuck in a kind of limbo. And then there was the fact that Ben and Michael could probably hear his heart, it was beating so loudly and so quickly, and that Justin's right hand had disappeared inside his shorts and was apparently working together with the left in the jerking and rubbing process.\par
\par
"Yeah...does," Justin whispered, and Brian wondered what the person was asking the kid in his dream. "Does it feel good," maybe? Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.\par
\par
Brian took the moment and just climbed out of bed.\par
\par
There he stood, with a hard on that had betrayed him, sweat dampening the roots of his hair, and feet that seemed to be screwed to the hardwood floor. Fuck, not screwed to the hardwood floor. Nailed to the... Not nailed, either. Taped. Feet that seemed to be taped to the...floor. Just, the floor.\par
\par
Justin laughed -- this horny little laugh that actually had some voice behind it this time -- and Brian wondered, stupidly, if Justin would be the type to giggle during sex when he started having it.\par
\par
Bathroom. Now.\par
\par
Brian turned to go, somehow pulling his heavy feet from the floor, and then he heard a cough. An aware cough. He walked faster.\par
\par
When he reached the bathroom, he flipped the light on, and as he turned to shut the door, he saw Justin sitting up in bed and examining the front of his shorts, the covers pushed all the way to the bottom of the mattress.\par
\par
The door closed with a loud clack.\par
\par
And Brian didn't jerk off in there. Not at all. He sat on the toilet for five minutes, thinking about his parents having sex, and after he softened, he pissed, washed his hands, and stared at himself in the mirror for what felt like an eternity.\par
\par
Red face, sweaty hair, chapped lips. Christ.\par
\par
Justin was pretending to sleep when Brian came back to bed. The older male could tell by the kid's breathing, and by the way that he didn't move. At all.\par
\par
*****\par
\par
Michael knocked twice on the bedroom door at around nine the next morning, snorting at the fact that there was no blond boy asleep on the couch. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and sauntered back into the kitchen with Ben, who was cooking breakfast.\par
\par
Brian awoke with a start, the sound jolting him out of a fitful rest, and opened his eyes to the sight of a bright, snow-glow ceiling, and Justin, already up, struggling to pull a black sweater over his head.\par
\par
The kid didn't say a word to him. Simply glanced his way for all of two seconds, and turned back to the task at hand. His hair was all staticky from rubbing against the inside of the sweater, and Brian had the strange desire to smooth it down. But he didn't. He pulled the covers up over his head and flopped back down against his pillow.\par
\par
"What time is it?" He asked, rubbing his sleep-oily face and stifling a yawn.\par
\par
A quiet, "dunno," was the only answer he received.\par
\par
Justin was fucking panicking inside. He finally managed to get that stupid sweater over his head, and shuffled off into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth. He could not look at Brian because Brian knew. Brian had been awake.\par
\par
And the bad part was that Justin couldn't remember much of the dream at all. He knew it had something to do with Brian, but that was it. He had no idea what he could've said, what all he could've done, but only that he had woken himself up laughing, with sticky, precum shorts and a raging hard on. Oh, and that Brian had been quickly scurrying off into the bathroom.\par
\par
God, what if he'd done something? Like touched Brian? Or what if he'd thrown himself on top of him, or humped his leg? Shit.\par
\par
Worse, still, he hadn't even come, and hadn't had a chance to. He must've been right there when he woke up, because he could literally feel himself about to explode. If he hadn't seen Brian retreating to the bathroom at lightning speed, he probably would've finished without contact.\par
\par
God, God, God. Why did he have to be so stupid? Why did he have to be so hormonal and prone to sex dreams? And really, why him? Why that night and not the night before, when he was at home? Alone in his bed. Without the hot, sexy love of his life inches away? Brian probably thought he was disgusting and too lame to be alive.\par
\par
Justin unfastened his jeans, and winced when he discovered that his penis was crusty from the night before. Lovely. He pissed, washed himself off with a cloth, because fuck, he certainly didn't want to feel like The Hormone Case With a Crusty Dick that day, and brushed his teeth.\par
\par
Brian started beating on the door right as the kid was running a comb through his messy hair, and Justin told him to go away.\par
\par
"Are you naked?" Brian asked, voice gravely with sleep.\par
\par
"Um, no."\par
\par
The door opened, and Justin knew he should've locked it. His cheeks flamed up and he knew it was fucking visible and he wanted to die.\par
\par
Brian pushed up the toilet lid with his bare foot and began to piss, as if the kid was not there and mortified.\par
\par
"I'm taking a shower," he said, flushing and pulling off his shirt in one swift movement.\par
\par
"Can you not wait till I'm done?"\par
\par
Brian grabbed the comb from Justin's hand, wet it under the tap, and brushed the kid's blond locks back until he looked like a fucking twat for sure. "There. You're done."\par
\par
"But I-" Nevermind. Justin rolled his eyes and left the bathroom, thinking it best to just get the hell away.\par
\par
*****\par
\par
At breakfast, Brian stared at Justin, if only to make him uncomfortable.\par
\par
"Will you stop?" The boy asked, shoveling in a mound of scrambled eggs and swiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater.\par
\par
"Stop what?"\par
\par
"Staring...?"\par
\par
"But you're just so pretty."\par
\par
Justin rolled his eyes and scooted his chair around until he was facing the living room, trying to pretend that Brian wasn't simply being cruel.\par
\par
"Did something happen that I'm unaware of?" Ben asked casually, sipping his tea and flipping through an outdated issue of The Times.\par
\par
"Oh, you know how teenagers are these days," Brian murmured, stirring his orange juice with his index finger. "All hormonal and whatnot."\par
\par
Justin stood, grabbed his plate, and took his breakfast into the living room, where he proceeded to watch Saturday morning cartoons and not eat.\par
\par
"What'd you do to him?" Michael asked in a whisper, scooting closer to his best friend and stealing a piece of his bacon.\par
\par
Brian sighed. "He had a party with himself in bed last night and now he's freaking out. This is Justin. What do you expect?"\par
\par
Michael snorted. "You're so mean."\par
\par
"How am I mean?"\par
\par
"He's embarrassed."\par
\par
"Well, he should be. You should've seen his technique. Christ."\par
\par
Ben covered his face with a napkin and laughed.\par
\par
"What?" Brian asked him, putting on his defensive face. "Just go get the snowmobile or something. I'm going out."\par
\par
"You should apologize."\par
\par
"Ha. I don't do apologies."\par
\par
Michael kicked his foot under the table. "Well, stop acting like a little kid with a crush."\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
Ben snorted. "I've never seen such flirting in my life."\par
\par
"Fuck you." Brian's face burned. "Snowmobile. Now."\par
\par
*****\par
\par
"You know," Brian said to Justin, as they were standing in the bedroom, pulling on their snow gear. "If you'd like to pull the stick out of your ass sometime soon, that would probably be beneficial to the sanity of all us poor fuckers."\par
\par
Justin rolled his eyes and began doing up the buttons on his coat.\par
\par
"Look, you didn't do anything last night." The man smirked. "I mean, you did some shit, but not to me."\par
\par
"Can we just forget about it?" The kid asked, looking around for his scarf. It was around his neck.\par
\par
Brian shrugged. "Whatever. But it wasn't a big deal. If you only knew how many times I've seen Michael jerk off..."\par
\par
"Forget it."\par
\par
"Forgotten."\par
\par
Justin nodded, managing a small smile at Brian's reflection in the mirror.\par
\par
"So come snowmobiling with me," Brian whispered, flicking the top of the kid's head. "Put on your ugly-ass hat and let's go."\par
\par
"Where're we going?"\par
\par
"Dunno. As far as it'll take us without the engine giving out, I guess."\par
\par
"Oh God, we're gonna die."\par
\par
"There are worse fates. Like birth."\par
\par
Justin laughed, grabbing his beanie hat with the stupid red pom-pom, and kicked at Brian's boot.\par
\par
As they made their way out the front doors and into the wonderland of marshmallowy snow, Brian murmured, "You laugh."\par
\par
The kid raised an eyebrow. "What?"\par
\par
"You laugh."\par
\par
"Oh." Justin blushed furiously, blood boiling beneath the skin. He would be mad, but the way Brian said it...\par
\par
"Yeah." He smiled sort of -- just a little -- and bumped Brian's hip with his own. "Sorry."\par
\par
Brian shook his head. "Don't be."\par
\par
\f0\par
}