CHAPTER TITLE: Brian’s Mission_Justin at Tommy’s_Seven of One Hundred
RATING: this chapter: PG
WORD COUNT: this chapter: 1,430
WARNINGS: this chapter: none, Justin POV
NON-CANON: Britin is in the countryside outside of Pittsburgh, not in West Virginia
DISCLAIMER: Nothing I can say that hasn’t been said already? Not mine.
Originally Beta’ed by herefordroad, all subsequent mistakes are mine.
Story throughout contains excerpts from The Brian Kinney Operating Manual including commentary from the Editors
SUMMARY FROM THE EDITORS: ‘At first he concerned himself with only the atmosphere, the ambiance, with how all the disparate parts worked together, after all, he really was a visual kind-of-a guy.’
Justin’s night out at Brian‘s insistence.
AUTHOR‘S NOTES: This story projects 59 years into the future and reflects all that that entails, many of the loose ends are tied-up. I dance with POV, I dance with time, in essence, I just dance to the song Brian & Justin sang to me.
Contains: Brian_others, Justin_others. They grow old, they are always together for just as long as time allows, but, ultimately, they will die.
As someone wise once said, ‘In the end, it’s all about Brian and Justin’ and I can only agree
A Time From Now
Brian’s Mission_Justin at Tommy’s
Friday -- Same Week - New York
The night was sweet, cool but not cold yet and the street was alive especially after 10:30. Like Liberty Avenue, this was a street that never slept. Still, I was tired, probably should’ve just stayed home and painted like I’d wanted but Brian had other, and seemingly more important, plans for me. Sooo…
Go, he’d said, go and play. Said he only wanted me to get out and have some fun…that was all. I reminded him that I’d been here all of two and a half weeks and that during that vast period of time I’d hardly been just sitting around playing with myself. Alright, maybe I had…not the point. I questioned how it was that all the way from there, he was still telling me what to do here? Wasn’t the whole point of this move about me learning how to make my own decisions, right and wrong? I’d advised him that if he was there telling me what to do here, I might as well still be there with him so that regular sex, at the very least, would be my compensation. But no.
He’d countered, and why was I not surprised? Told me to just go out this one time and then he’d leave me alone, on this subject anyway, for an entire month. Said he thought he was being pretty generous. I finally gave in, don‘t I always? Told him I’d go just to Shut Him Up. He chuckled. He would.
The absolute truth? I liked going clubbing, I really liked going to Babylon. With Brian. On my own. Maybe sometimes even better on my own…once in a while but Babylon was almost like a second home. I knew all the bartenders and all the bouncers, the go-go boys and not an especially small percentage of the patrons. I’d worked there. I was the owner’s partner. This place, Tommy’s, I knew nothing about. I wouldn’t know the bouncers or the bartenders or even the smallest percentage of the patrons. I would be entirely on my own. And, pathetically, I hadn’t really done that before. In my five long years of clubbing, I hadn’t really gone to a club, unknown and untested, on my own. About time I suppose, Brian seemed to think so anyway. We‘ll see.
Justin slowed as he neared his vaguely local, his more-or-less neighborhood dance club, moving through the few and far-too-young and far-too-pretty boys gathered along its sidewalk. And while they remained where they were, loitering just outside its doors, all warm smiles and inviting hands, he entered. He hesitated once he was nearly inside, taking it all in, he surveyed the room. He may have been a novice at this but he still knew what to do, what to look for and then and only then did he allow himself to meld with the lights and sounds, the smells and feel of this new place. It was brighter then Babylon, bathed in a warm yellow light and smaller, almost more a bar with a dance floor, like Woody’s if they’d allowed dancing and comfortable, all wood and mirrors. He immediately felt comfortable. Brian would like it here even if it didn’t have a pool table.
He watched them watching him as he made his way to the bar, his newness clinging to him like cologne, they smelled it, tasted it…he exuded it. Once there, once he’d had his first shot of JB, once he felt himself warm and relaxed, they sensed it. They started moving on him but he just half-smiled to them, brushing them away, while telling them that he was just there for a drink. They questioned him, coaxing him, they wanted him to dance but he was resolute. So, he became a challenge, time and again he needed to remind them and eventually it was enough. He really was just there for a drink, maybe two. Okay and maybe…maybe for a dance or two because, main thing, he was there on a mission from Brian. He was there to watch and learn, to evaluate, to compare and contrast the known clubs of Pittsburgh to the unknown clubs of New York so that was what he did. He was not entirely sure why he was there doing all of that -- and asking Brian the tough question of why had been less than helpful -- but he was, nonetheless, watching and learning.
At first he concerned himself with the atmosphere, the ambiance, with how all the disparate parts worked together, after all, he really was a visual kind-of-a guy. But then he started watching the couples because, after all, he really was a pretty sensual kind-of-a guy as well. He watched the way they came together, how they moved with each other. He wished Brian was there so they could move like that, in that easy way they‘d always had with each other, their bodies close and swaying, foreheads touching, eyes closed…private. He almost felt Brian’s hands soft along his back, his fingertips clutching tight on Brian’s hips, bringing their bodies together…bringing them together. He’d give anything then to feel that push, that pulse that only Brian could give him but he couldn‘t. So, after an hour, maybe a little more, after a couple of drinks and a couple of dances, he left.
It was still early, not quite midnight when he started his walk back home. He had a little space set-up like a studio, in a corner of the relatively large living room and he was anxious to work on a painting he’d started. A small one fitting the small space that was not in any way ideal, but that would have to do until he could find a real studio space and could paint large again.
And that needed to happen soon, a need that could not be overly emphasized because he really wasn’t sure how long Alex, his most stellar roommate, could deal with the smell and the clutter and the intrusion. He was trying to keep the mess to a minimum, using acrylic paint, instead of oil, to lessen the odor but still…a major intrusion. He seriously didn‘t want to piss-off Alex. He liked him and wanted their arrangement to work for a while. The rent was a little high but ‘Rage’ was selling well, very well and there was still quite a bit of money left from LA, so all things being equal, he wanted to stay just where he was, at least for a while. He vowed tomorrow to start studio-space looking. As he passed their local Starbucks, he called Alex and, after finding out he’d also love a mocha latte, Justin bought two.
First thing he did, once he was home, wasn’t to paint, but was to email Brian. He told him all about Tommy’s, the very sweet little local club he’d gone to that night. He told about the many similarities, and the few differences between it and Babylon. He told him about the pretty guys who’d cruised him; he told him all about how he danced and how it’d been fun. He told him how fucking good it had felt and how, at least for a while, he was able to lose himself in it. Justin told Brian all about Tommy‘s, his first real dance club, and on his own, in New York and his little over an hour and a half of time not-so-badly-spent there. He knew he’d go again and when he did, he also knew that all the pretty guys would still be there. Just waiting.
The Brian Kinney Operating Manual - A Life Examined
the chapter titled - ‘Brian & His Nightclubs’
This is only the first of what will eventually become quite a few such ‘missions from Brian‘. An exact count is no longer attainable and, frankly, even if it were, the knowing of it wouldn’t be truly significant, just kind of nice. Justin will, however, become an expert. He will think back fondly on his ‘first time’ and chuckle that he could ever have been even slightly afraid but, truth is, he was, he really was. Brian does have his reasons, unclear in the beginning, but becoming more and more so as time moves on. Eventually his reasons -- and we do mean reasons even if there really can only be One Main Reason for most everything he does -- will become just as clear as the very finest crystal, as if Brian knew exactly what he was doing right from the very beginning which, honestly, he didn‘t.
Next Chapter: Brian reluctantly realizes denial can only get him so far.
for original post & additional chapters, please see here