Work Text:
“Can we watch a movie?”
Brian looked up from the sheaf of documents he’d been hunched over with laser focus. Justin stood in front of him, clad in his underwear, a throw blanket draped around his shoulders like a superhero cape. The other man’s lips were pulled in a frown, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Brian hesitantly.
He hated how the bashing had reduced his sunshine to a fragile, hollowed out shell – the demeanor didn’t suit him at all. Brian surmised the shift within Justin was as suffocating as a muzzle. But there was nothing inherently wrong with him; he was simply adjusting to what his new normal was going to be like.
“Of course. Give me a sec,” Brian said, pasting on a smile that felt strained. Calculated. It wasn’t how their dynamic panned out, but that was before.
He envisioned the duality of his life: on one side was how it was before Justin nearly died while unconscious and bleeding out on the ground. One of the worst fucking nights of his life, although its prelude was in the opposite direction entirely. He’d experienced so many bad days already, and he was fucking exhausted.
Admittedly, a part of him died that night on the bloodstained asphalt and that’s why he’d kept the stupid, overpriced scarf around his neck as a reminder and an option. Michael had curbed the hasty choice he’d made while alone in the loft, crossfaded and returning to the familiar sunken place of his childhood. Another part of him wished his best friend had been too late to intervene. His morbidly curious side wanted to know if there was a hell, and if it was one huge hedonistic buffet.
The other side of his life had the here and now, along with the numerous piles of debris left behind in Chris Hobbs’ rampage, and the ones clawing their way out of those piles.
Brian wasn’t born a fighter, but the world and his family had molded him into a reluctant yet vicious one.
“Any special requests?” Justin tossed a smile over his shoulder, then turned back to the VHS tapes organized on the shelves. “I don’t wanna watch any horror flicks, but everything else is fair game.”
“Surprise me. Dealer’s choice.” Brian finished sliding the documents into the folder and stood, making his way over to the kitchen to prepare popcorn on the stove. Eating snacks was another form of oral fixation they could do together with a good success rate.
Decision made, albeit silently, Justin grabbed one of the tapes and popped it in the VCR. The sleeve was set aside on the TV console table. Brian was too far away to see the sleeve, and he chuckled softly.
Justin adjusted the blanket around him and plopped on the couch, rolling his neck from side to side for a brief moment. “Let me know if you’re not up for watching this. I can change it to another movie.”
“I don’t care what we watch,” Brian said, switching the burner on as he positioned the pot of kernels to the proper spot. He’d watch paint dry with Justin if that’s what he wanted – not that he’d admit such a ridiculously sappy statement to his face willingly. Maybe not even under duress.
The loft space filled with the noises of explosions and dramatic musical scores while different movie previews droned on as a precursor to the main event. Brian still had zero clue about the movie itself, and true to his word, he didn’t care. The movies they watched served as background noise for their mutual sexual exploration sessions. Not this time, however, because he had a feeling that Justin wasn’t in that mood. Brian resolved not to push him in that depraved direction unless the other man initiated it either.
He could keep his hands to himself sometimes. Mostly.
“Of course. I should’ve known.” Brian shook his head and smiled at him.
The movie Justin had chosen was Pretty Woman. One of the most annoyingly heteroerotic — but vanilla, let’s not forget — movies the masses frothed and creamed themselves over. Brian had caught him staring at the tape one day at the store, and he’d relented without a peep from Justin. He told himself it was because the moony-eyed look on Justin’s face was annoying. When they returned to the loft, they didn’t discuss it at all, but Brian felt warmth in his chest reminiscing about the sixty nine session that same day.
Justin sidled closer to Brian when he sat down with a bowl of popcorn. He’d already put a mug of hot tea and two water bottles on the coffee table. Justin didn’t share the blanket, but Brian didn’t mind because the blond was a human-sized glacier most of the time. Brian had the thermostat set to a comfortable, ambient temperature for most people. Justin insisted on whatever temperature Brian wanted though, hence, the collection of blankets he now had and were scattered around the loft.
“Hi,” Justin murmured, pressing his face to Brian’s collarbone and nuzzling him. “Thanks for making popcorn.”
“You’re welcome, twat.” He tossed a handful of popcorn in his mouth and rolled his eyes as Julia Roberts strutted around onscreen. Richard Gere was truly the saving grace of the weak attempt at a cinematic masterpiece, piano scene notwithstanding.
Justin’s gaze remained on the TV. “I’m sorry that I…freak out and get all weird about you touching me sometimes. It’s not you, it’s the stupid…me being stupid…argh. You know what I mean.”
Brian nearly missed when he shoved more popcorn in his mouth; a wayward kernel rolled under the coffee table. He chewed slowly and swallowed. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’ve told you that already and I’ll repeat it as many times as you need me to, okay?”
“If you don’t want to do this anymore, I understand,” Justin continued, voice wobbly with a hint of terror. He sounded like the eighteen year old he fronted not to be around others.
They didn’t need to watch a horror movie because Justin seemed to be creating one of his own. Found footage: trying to break up with Brian and expecting no resistance. No bite. Well, call Brian Cujo 2.0, because the restrained anger thrumming in his veins was potent and mounting rapidly. Bark bark, motherfuckers.
“Sunshine.” Brian kept his tone level and calm as screams that sounded vaguely like his own rang in his head. “Where is this coming from exactly? Is it the pain medication making you a little loopy? Did you inhale too much urban pollution or the food fumes at the diner today?”
Justin fidgeted with the blanket, eyes downcast. “I’m giving you a chance to live your life on your terms. Not play guardian to a baby gay with a gimp hand and newly found intimacy issues.”
Brian saw red and had to take a few deep breaths before speaking again. “With all due respect, shut the fuck up. You’re more than just a ‘baby gay with a gimp hand and newly found intimacy issues,’ and you know it. You’re so much more than that.”
“I had the potential to be more than that.” His blue eyes had never looked sadder.
“Stop. I’m not going to sit back and listen to you attack yourself like this.” Brian cupped the blond’s face in his hand and set the bowl aside on the table. “That fuckface didn’t destroy you, okay? He roughed you up, but you’re still here. With me.”
Tears filled Justin’s eyes as Brian stared at him with fierce, stubborn conviction.
“I don’t care if it takes you days, months, weeks, or years to heal. I don’t fucking care how long it takes. Because the healing process didn’t stop after you were discharged from the hospital; hell, it didn’t stop when you saw the neurologist and did those exercises for your hand. It’s probably a lifelong journey. And I’ll be there beside you until you tell me to fuck off.”
The admission was the closest thing to a love declaration he’d given Justin, and the realization had him reeling yet oddly satisfied simultaneously.
Justin laughed, tears streaming down his cheeks and onto the blanket.
“Do you understand now?” Brian gently nudged Justin with his palm still cupping his face. His other hand reached up, thumb swiping away the stray droplets.
“Yeah. I do,” Justin said with a small, watery smile. He cleared his throat. “I have to rewind the tape.”
During the whole movie, Brian held Justin close and made a mental promise to keep him for as long as possible. Because Justin hadn’t said anything about his statement that he’d remain by his side indefinitely; he hoped against all odds that the blond didn’t make him a liar.
The unhurried, soft kisses they shared while intertwined in bed later that night, unbeknownst to Justin, sealed the promise.