after.midnight // v.naked
Title: Twelve Days in Paradise
Summary: Justin spends his last days in Pittsburgh with his two favorite people.
Disclaimer: Brian and Daphne and Justin belong to Cowlip.
He spends the last twelve days before he leaves for California hanging out with Daphne and Brian.
It started with him taking a week and completely devoting it to the Justin and Daphne Show. Between his stint as Angry Vigilante #2 and balancing the line between being supportive of and smothering Brian during the whole cancer thing, he and Daphne hadn't had a chance to really spend time together, despite the fact that the kinda sorta lived together. And since, upon his return from LaLa Land, he'd be moving back in with Brian, he figured he'd work on strengthening the one relationship he was pretty sure he couldn't live without. There was no Justin without Daphne. He didn't want her to forget it.
So he and Daphne stayed at home, curled up on the couch with a box of tissues, watching Pretty Woman and Casablanca and, when he couldn't take Daphne sniffling on his shoulder for one more second, Scream; she in her pink pajamas with the purple hearts and white stars that her father bought her for her sixteenth birthday, he in the extremely expensive navy blue silk pajamas Brian bought him because, according to Brian, they were almost as soft as his skin. Brian thought that if he insisted on walking around the loft clothed (which he would continue to do if Brian insisted on keeping the loft as cold as the Antarctic), the least he could do was wear something that felt as much like his bare skin as possible.
They had two days of together time before Brian got tired of waiting for his week to come around. He should have figured Brian wouldn't play fair.
He and Daphne had stopped by the loft to pick up some sketches for the next issue of Rage. He was on his way out of the bedroom, sketchbook tucked neatly under his arm, when Brian walked in the door carrying a steaming pizza box in one hand and a plastic grocery bag in the other.
Not only was Brian not playing fair, he was fighting really fucking dirty. He knew that, even as he put Brian's bribery offering of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream, strawberries, and whipped cream in the fridge, he and Daphne weren't leaving the loft. Ever.
They spent that first night lying on the floor eating disgustingly good pizza and drinking Brian's ridiculously expensive imported beer. Daphne made a list of all the stars he was supposed to suck up to and get autographs from and Brian put stars next to the ones he was supposed to fuck. Brian made out a list of clubs he should go to, and Daphne promised to pay him fifty bucks if he could get Colin Farrell to suck him off in the bathroom of some celebrity chef's restaurant. Brian offered him a hundred bucks if he could get Colin Farrell to suck him off in the bathroom and send him pictures of it afterward.
He reminded them both that he was going to LA to work, not whore himself out for their amusement. But he figured if he ran into Colin Farrell, he'd try and get that blowjob anyway.
They spent the next night at Babylon. Brian invented some idiotic drinking game that had them knocking back tequila shots every time someone cruised him and three shots whenever a guy slapped Daphne's ass. When the fifteenth guy in as many minutes felt Daphne up, the bartender suggested they stop before they all got alcohol poisoning.
Daph was on the far side of intoxication, Brian only slightly buzzed, when he dragged them away from the bar to the dance floor. Daphne made fun of Brian's dancing, so Brian had to prove just how well he could move by doing some seductive hip gyrating thing that had Daphne's eyes glazing over with lust in two minutes flat.
They capped the night off with a tour of the backroom for Daph, who stared at the goings on around her as if she'd died and gone to heaven, and another round of drinks at the bar with the guys.
The third night they stayed in and watched movies.
They smoked pot while watching Alien, put a pretty sizable dent in the ice cream while they watched The Shining, and did naughty things with the strawberries and whipped cream during Psycho. He's not sure he's ever going to get the sight of Brian licking whipped cream off Daphne's thigh out of his head.
They ordered take out from the Thai place down the block and Brian let Daph make milkshakes out of his secret stash of Ben & Jerry's vanilla ice cream in the back of the freezer. While they were goofing around, he took pictures of them and threatened to give copies to the guys if they didn't let him pick the next movie. Brian caved instantly, he had a reputation to uphold after all, but it took a tickle fight to get Daphne to give in to the inevitable.
They watched High Fidelity and Brian mocked Daphne's weird ass crush on Jack Black. To avenge her, he spilled the beans about Brian's super secret lust for John Cusak and Brian retaliated by blabbing to Daphne that he would go straight for Catherine Zeta-Jones, which he vehemently denied.
They fell asleep watching Chicago, and yeah, maybe he would fuck Catherine Zeta-Jones, Brian's arms wrapped around him from behind, Daphne's head on his chest, and he knew, of all the things he'd miss when he went away, hanging out with Brian and Daphne was one of the things he was going to miss most.
The fourth night they spent at Woody's. Brian was convinced that he had to teach Daph to play pool, positive that she was as bad as Justin. Daphne let him bend her over the table and demonstrate proper stick handling technique and he tried not to laugh too hard when Daphne hustled Brian out of forty bucks.
"Justin and I have been hustling since we were twelve," Daph told him, as she pocketed her cash. "We country club brats are a devious bunch."
The next four days passed much like the previous four, except for the afternoon Brian and Daphne hung out during his last shift at the diner. Debbie hung a sign outside the door announcing Farewell Sunshine and it seemed as if every gay man in Pennsylvania came in for one last grope of his ass. Brian and Daphne huddled in a corner booth, playing footsie underneath the table, and every time he passed by, Brian pulled him down and kissed him, which made Daphne giggle like a schoolgirl.
He was so used to coming home to the loft and seeing Daphne sitting on a stool in the kitchen, or showing up at his apartment and finding Brian sprawled out on the couch that he had to remind himself daily that it wouldn't last.
He spends his second to last day in Pittsburgh packing up his stuff at Daphne's. They swear they're not going to cry, but by the time he places his first item of clothing in his suitcase, they've already gone through two boxes of Kleenex.
When he's done packing they stay up talking all night, and Daph makes him promise to call her at least once a week. In return she promises to come out to LA and visit him the next time classes are out for more than three days. He already has visions of Daphne and Justin Do Disneyland dancing in his head.
Before he leaves for the loft the next morning, they make breakfast together in their tiny little kitchen. Daphne burns the pancakes and he lets the omelet cook too long. It's a complete disaster, but they laugh long and loud and hard enough to counter the tears they cried the night before.
It's not the last time he'll see Daph before he leaves, but it feels as if it is, and he doesn't walk out the door without hugging her tight and telling her he loves her. He always will.
He spends his last night at the loft with Brian. They've given everyone explicit instructions not to disturb them. If they didn't say all they needed to at the going away party Debbie threw him three days earlier, they'll just have to wait until he gets to California.
Brian sits on the bed and watches him pack. It reminds him of all the times he's watched Brian do the same, but Brian never went away for eight months and he never thought he'd be the one leaving Brian behind. He has this overwhelming urge to ask Brian to go with him, but Brian finally gets tired of watching him pack his life away and fucks the urge right out of him.
He manages to keep the tears at bay, even though the mood in the loft is decidedly melancholy and Brian keeps watching him as if he's trying to memorize every expression he makes, the varying degrees of his smiles, every mood that's reflected in his eyes.
They spend three hours just lying in bed, his head on Brian's chest, Brian's fingers combing gently through his hair. They don't talk much because the silence is comfortable and special and breaking it would be something close to sacrilegious. It's the most peaceful he's felt in months and part of him doesn't want it to ever end.
He doesn't lose it until later. It's about two in the morning and he's exhausted, mentally and physically, when Brian rolls over and whispers against his lips, "Fuck me." It's not the first time he's fucked Brian and it won't be the last, but damn if the invitation doesn't make him cry like a baby.
It starts off clumsy and awkward and a bit messier than usual because he can't stop the tears and Brian won't stop laughing at him. But in the next moment there's nothing in his head but the feel of Brian's fingers curled around his own and Brian's sweat slicked back against his chest and Brian's moans echoing in his ears. There's nothing but the pleasure of Brian's ass gripping his cock so tightly that when he comes he see stars.
When he finally drifts off to sleep, Brian's body wrapped around his, he knows getting on the plane, leaving the safety and comfort of Daphne and Brian behind while he goes off to forge his own path is going to be the hardest thing he's ever had to do. Harder than looking his father in the eye and telling him exactly who he was or learning to live again after coming so close to dying or sauntering into Brian's office and asking him for another chance or walking away just when he had Chris Hobbes on his knees begging him for forgiveness.
He never let any of that stop him before. He's not going to let it stop him now.