Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to sln188, my 70th reviewer (!), and to all my gentle readers who came back to my story after a long absence. Thank you!

P.S. Word of warning, there's a description of drug use in this chapter, though it's nothing you haven't seen a million times on the original show. Enjoy!

It Was Only Time

Chapter 49 – Yet Another "Later"...

Brian's day at the office went considerably better than last Wednesday when Justin came in to town. In fact, in complete contrast to that day, everything was going swimmingly. Zoe was already at the office when he got in, still wearing black head to toe, but her make-up and collection of facial piercings were surprisingly still subdued. His new coffeemaker worked perfectly well and Brian enjoyed what he decided was the best cup of coffee he has ever had at the office. He had an incredibly busy morning catching up with everything that he missed since last Thursday. Ted and Mitch from IT apparently ironed out their differences with Zoe by themselves and had no problems. Miraculously, Ted quickly found two potential replacements for the guy Brian fired the morning of the Wednesday from hell. After taking a look at their resumes Brian decided to interview both of them later in the week.

Cynthia breezed in to the office after nine am looking beautifully rested and tan from her Mediterranean vacation. Brian thoroughly enjoyed her confusion over staffing changes, especially when it came to his EA. He took gleeful pleasure in teasing her with predictions of Zoe's greatness as an EA that would surpass even her stellar record. The asshole client from California called Brian and said that he didn't completely hate the changes that the team in charge of his account proposed on Friday. To Brian, that was high praise indeed coming from such a high-strung diva of a client who just a few days ago threatened to sue. Mid-morning Leo Brown surprised him with a phone call just to make sure Brian was OK. It seemed that Zoe unintentionally made Brian's "personal emergency" sound a lot more dire when she tried to re-schedule their VTC meeting. Brian was rather touched that Leo interrupted his vacation just to make sure he was all right.

By lunchtime Brian was surprisingly caught up with everything that he missed at the end of last week and in a moment of generosity told Zoe to order a catered lunch for the entire office. A few minutes later Cynthia walked into his office and found Brian sitting at his desk, motionless, staring into his phone, with a dreamy smile on his face and what sounded like a quiet hum coming out of his throat.

"Brian are you...singing?" she asked in complete astonishment.

"Of course not, what gave you that ridiculous idea?"

"I heard you. You were humming...definitely humming some sort of tune, though it looks like your singing skills are even worse than your mediocre dancing." She said coming up to his desk. "I won't even mention the goofy grin on your face. What's going on with you? And why were you staring at your phone?"

"Nothing and none of your fucking business, Cyn..." That response, however, was not going to satisfy her curiosity and in a move worthy of a Bruce Lee punch, her arm shot out and she snatched the BlackBerry out of his hands. Before Brian even realized what happened, Cynthia was turning his phone around and right side up in her hands and looking at a picture of Justin taken just that morning right after they got out of the shower. Her eyes slightly widened at the sight of Justin's damp face, sporting his signature incandescent smile and slightly squinting at the camera due to remaining water droplets on his lashes.

"Don't tell me – Justin's back. He is, isn't he?" She asked and without waiting for a response continued, "I knew it! I just knew you'd end up back together – it was as inevitable as the tide. When did all this happen?"

Brian told Cynthia an abbreviated version of events since Chicago, culminating with the weekend.

"I'm not going to say a word about the long-distance thing. You have never been one to follow convention and Justin, is well, Justin. If you guys want it to work, I'm sure you'll find a way. That being said...what the fuck are you doing here in the office when Justin is going back to New York on Wednesday?"

"Cynthia, I am not some lesbionic, clingy housewife that needs her lover's constant presence. He's got shit to do, places to go, people to see. He wants to paint in his the studio at Britin. We made plans to meet up there at six, after work. I do have a company to run, you know?"

"For God's sake Brian, Ted and I are more than capable of handling things for a few more days without you. Besides, you do have a home office at the house, from which you've run this company of yours on several occasions without problems."

"I'm not going to monopolize his every minute, Cynthia. I don't want to be like one of those helicopter parents, or rather, partners."

"Brian, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be close to someone you love. It's not clingy or lesbionic – it's human. Long-distance relationships aren't easy, trust me on this. Go home and spend as much time with him as you can before he leaves for the City. I'm certain he'll want you there. If he wants to paint for a couple of hours, you can go to your home office, close the door and harass me, Ted, Zoe or anyone else at Kinnetik to your heart's content. And the best part of it is that once he's done at the studio and you at the office, you'll be a few doors away from each other and neither one of you has to worry about a traffic-filled commute. Besides, the way you were mooning over that photo of his and, God help me, attempting to sing, it's fair to say that you want to be with him right now and not here."

Brian stayed silent for a couple of minutes, thinking over what she said. Then he abruptly got up, threw a few files into his briefcase and called Zoe at her desk.

"Zoe, I'll be working out of my home office through Wednesday. Cynthia will take over any of my meetings, though I may dial in remotely. Transfer all calls to my cell, unless I tell you otherwise. See you on Thursday."

Brian hung up without waiting for a reply and with a quiet "Thanks, Cyn." walked out of the office.

Brian arrived at Britin about 45 minutes after leaving Kinnetik, carrying the promised takeaway containers of Thai food and a couple of bottles of wine he picked up on a whim. Justin's rented Jeep was already in the driveway. If Brian didn't know of Justin's plans to paint in the studio, he would have easily found him just by following the familiar sounds of Thelonious Monk emanating from the studio. Brian quietly walked in to the studio and stood by the door, watching Justin paint unnoticed. The scene before him was almost exactly like the vision he had several years ago when he walked through the house after closing the sale. Justin, wearing cargo pants and a t-shirt, was standing in front of an easel by the French doors, with his back to Brian and held a paintbrush in his hands. "One dream down, a million to go..." came an unexpected, embarrassingly sappy, and yet surprisingly welcome, thought into Brian's head.

"Isn't it a bit early to think about drinking, Sunshine?"

Justin whirled around in surprise at those words and seeing Brian leaning elegantly on the doorjamb, smiled broadly.

"Brian! Drinking? What exactly are you talking about?" Justin carefully wiped his paint brush with a tissue, dropped it into a can filled with turpentine and taking a rag that was sticking out of his back pocket started to vigorously clean off the excess paint off his hands.

"'Straight, No Chaser'? Didn't know you were a jazz fan." Brian said, watching Justin's familiar "clean-up" ritual hungrily. Until that moment, Brian was unaware exactly how familiar this completely mundane, inconsequential routine of Justin's was to him and how much he missed watching it.

"Your fault, as it happens. You listened to enough Coltrane, Monk and Davis when we were together before that it's now pretty much a part of me. I don't listen to jazz very often, but there are days when nothing else will do."

While Justin was talking and still trying to clean off his hands, Brian slowly walked into the room until he stood right in front of his partner.

"Like today?" He asked and wrapped his hands around Justin's waist, bringing him flush to his body.

"Like today. Brian, you are going to get paint all over you." Brian ignored Justin's protests and kissed him. Justin's hands went around Brian's neck, his fingers curled into his hair and he pressed himself ever closer by standing on tiptoe, and forgetting all about his paint-stained clothing.

"Damn, I might have ruined your suit." Justin mumbled against Brian's lips as the kiss ended.

"Like it matters...I have dozens of these, trust me." Brian mumbled back.

"Thought you weren't getting out of the office until about five?"

"Cynthia kicked me out. Said something about working from home, avoiding the commute and other such bullshit. I didn't want to upset the old girl so soon after her vacation, so I gave her a present of one more Kinney-free afternoon." Brian explained with a smirk.

"Ah-huh." Justin nodded with an 'I'm so onto you' expression on his face. "Clever girl, that Cynthia..."

"Very clever...So, Sunshine, how about we 'christen' this studio of yours?" Brian suggested and began to practically devour Justin's neck.

"Actually, I was hoping the master bedroom would be...ah...'initiated' first, especially that incredible bed." Justin said and sighed in pleasure.

"That can definitely be arranged..." Brian bit Justin's earlobe, making him hiss in surprise, and then proceeded to rain gentle and not so gentle love bites along his jaw.

"Shower..." Justin whimpered, "Paint...need a shower first."

"OK. Don't take too long." Brian sighed and reluctantly let Justin go.

"Five minutes!" Justin promised and ran out the room.

Brian looked around the studio, which finally looked lived-in, with used and unused art supplies laying about on the work table and in the sink, with a barely-begun canvas on the easel and the scents of paint and turpentine lingering in the air. He smiled and walked out of the room, thinking of the hot make-out session they've just shared that was bordering on being romantic. As he slowly went up the stairs towards the master bedroom, his thoughts lingered on the uncomfortable subject of romance. Brian didn't believe in romance, at least not the bullshit Hollywood idea of it; sappy hearts, flowers, candy and proposals on bended knee just weren't his style. It's not that he wasn't capable of planning and executing a grand romantic gesture, he was when the occasion called for it – the dance at Justin's prom was prime example of that. It's just that more often than not, none of that crap was sincere or genuine and it amazed him how many people deluded themselves into believing that a bunch of silly flowers or empty words on a Hallmark card were a sign of "true love".

If Brian believed in anything in relation to romance, especially since meeting Justin over eight years ago, it were moments – unexpected, spontaneous, unplanned. The time he kissed Justin at the prom was one of those amazing moments. Brian only planned on dancing with Justin, but something happened to him during the dance and he momentarily forgot himself and everything else in the world, initiating a kiss that would be forever etched into his memory. He sorely wished that Justin remembered it too. Or when they danced in the street at Pride in the fall of 2001, or when they made love for the first time after Justin's bashing, or their night at the W hotel in Chicago, or the last kiss in the middle of the Royce Gallery – those were the moments, among several others, that stood out in Brian's memory and that he felt were truly romantic.

Brian walked into the master suite thinking again of the make-out session of a few minutes ago and admitted that it wasn't "bordering" romance – it conquered that territory blitzkrieg style. In fact, the idea of a vague dream fulfilled in such a way made him want to repeat the experience as soon as possible. He suddenly remembered another vision of his from that same day and thought "What if?".

Justin loved the bathroom from the very first time he saw it, thinking that it was a palace in itself and that 95 percent of people living in New York City and its boroughs would kill to have such luxurious accommodations. He truly planned on taking a quick, five minute rinse, but soon lost track of time and got out of the shower about half and hour later. He was surprised that Brian didn't say a word of complaint, didn't get tired of waiting and, most of all, didn't join him in the shower. Justin called out to Brian, but got no answer back. Slightly worried, he quickly dried himself, wrapped a plush towel around his waist and went to look for his partner. The sight that greeted him when he walked out of the bathroom stopped him dead in his tracks – the bed was turned down, the windows were wide open with afternoon light filtering through still, sheer curtains, and a bottle of wine was left breathing next to a couple of elegant wine glasses on the little occasional table by the windowsill. But the most astonishing sight was that of Brian – shirtless, but still wearing his dress slacks – crouching in front of a blazing fireplace, carefully rearranging a log with some sort of iron tool.

"Brian? What in the world are you doing?" Justin asked curiously.

"Why, I am shearing sheep, Sunshine!" Brian laughed rather nervously, setting the fireplace tools aside. Then he stood up and continued more seriously, "Well...you were talking about making love in the front of the fire and how romantic it all would be. So, I thought, I'd do this for you...well, for us, actually. If we are going to 'christen' this room, we might as well go all out, do it right, you know..." His voice trailed off as Justin, looking completely shell-shocked, slowly walked towards him.

"Brian, this is incredible, thank you!" Justin said fervently when he stopped right in front of Brian and right in front of the fireplace. They looked at each other without moving for several long minutes, then slowly leaned in towards each other and kissed almost chastely. A couple of minutes later Justin looked around the bedroom, sighing contentedly, but when his gaze came back to the lit fireplace he suddenly laughed.

"Brian, this is ridiculously, insanely, amazingly romantic and I absolutely love you for the idea...but you do realize it's May, right, as well as unseasonably warm? We are going to roast alive fucking in this heat!" Justin laughed again, then whipped off the towel from his waist, threw it in the direction of the bathroom and bodily threw himself at Brian, making him stagger. He attacked Brian's mouth in a searing kiss and then exclaimed, "But what a way to go! Take me to bed, Brian, make me burn inside and out..."

A couple of hours later, the heat really did get to be too much and after banking the fire in the bedroom, they cooled off in the pool and then proceeded to 'christen' the formal living room, though next to a cold fireplace this time. Brian was glad, if not a little surprised, that they weren't interrupted by any phone calls, business or personal. The only people they talked to that afternoon were Lindsey, Mel and Gus, who was beyond ecstatic that Brian and Justin were back together. He said that he was very happy neither one of them would be lonely anymore and immediately demanded that they both visit him in Toronto as soon as possible.

By six o'clock both were starving, but neither wanted to get up from the plush Turkish carpet and floor cushions that served as their bedding. After a minor verbal skirmish about who's going to go get the Thai food from the kitchen, Brian relented under threat of another tickle attack and agreed to go heat up their food. A few minutes later, Brian re-appeared in the living room carrying a cutting board that he cleverly used instead of a tray to transport the microwaved containers of Pad Thai, and a couple of chopsticks. He sat down Indian-style on the carpet, opened a container of food, began to eat and then grinning wickedly said:

"Now it's your turn to get up – we left the wine upstairs in the bedroom."

"You are kidding, right? I just got my food!"

"Oh, no, Sunshine! I got the food, you get the wine, it's only fair. Now, get your bubble-butt up those stairs! I'm getting mighty thirsty." Justin reluctantly got up and went to get the wine as Brian laughed.

They ended up having a rather nice carpet picnic, though very different from the candle-lit, rose-petal, fancy-cheese and imported chocolate kind that Justin dreamed of a few years before. He decided that this spontaneous, naked, "we-are-too-relaxed-from-fucking-all-afternoon-to-give-a-shit" kind of picnic with a plastic cutting board instead of a fancy table cloth, styrofoam containers instead of fine china and rough, single-use chopsticks instead of silverware, was much better, and much more romantic than anything preplanned could have ever been. They took turns drinking the wine straight from the bottle, because in his haste to get back to his food, Justin forgot to pick up the wine glasses. By the time they noticed a lack of stemware, both were too hungry and neither cared enough to get back up. After decimating their noodles and a bottle of wine, Brian got up to get the second bottle of red that he left in the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later, with an open bottle, a couple of plain tumblers and a tightly rolled joint. He lay down next to Justin, poured some wine, lit the joint and sighed in satisfaction.

"Now, that's what I call a naked lunch!" He took a nice long hit and passed the joint to Justin.

"It's after six, Brian, it's officially a naked dinner. Though, I won't argue with you, this little carpet spread, couldn't be more perfect!" He took a hit and hissed, "Damn, this shit is strong!"

"I don't indulge as often as I used to. Rarely, in fact, but when I do, I get nothing but the best!"

"How is Anita these days?" Justin asked curiously.

"Probably not too good, considering she's in prison. Bit off more than she could chew, from what I heard. Tried to move into the 'big leagues', instead of staying a somewhat big fish in a very small pond. I haven't dealt with her or others of her ilk in years actually. This 'good shit' is pretty much all I indulge in these days, other than JB and Chivas, of course."

"Of course. So...how often do you 'indulge'?"

"Oh, every couple of months or so and whenever Deb has a hankering for tuna casserole."

"What? Deb?" Justin snorted.

"Oh, yeah. She has these moments of wanting to relive Woodstock, or her youth, or whatever – good pot, deep, involved, philosophical discussions and tuna casserole. I fucking hate tuna casserole, but she's convinced that I loved it when I was 14 and I don't have the heart to convince her otherwise." Then Brian spent the next half hour telling Justin about some of those involved conversations.

"You know, she'd never do this with Mikey. I mean, she fucking knows he's smoked pot plenty, mostly with me, but she comes to the loft any time she's in the mood to get baked. I wonder why?" Brian mused. Justin thought for a few minutes, then answered,

"Because she can only see Michael as her son, even though she knows he's an adult. He's her child first, a man second. While she may think of you and treat you like a son, she sees you as a man first and always will."

"That's a very good theory, Sunshine, and is another reason why Deb wouldn't get stoned with him. I love Mikey as a brother, always have and always will, but I'll also be the first to admit that he isn't as smart as you. He ain't stupid, by any means, and he tends to philosophize when smoking a joint just like everyone else does. And let me tell you, he can get pretty damn philosophical at times. The problem is, the only thing he can talk seriously in depth about are his comics. As much as she loves him, Deb would get irritated, hit him upside the head inside of fifteen minutes and probably flush the pot down the toilet."

Justin laughed, "You are probably right and that would be the end of tuna casserole conversations for him, as well as for you."

"A tragedy, to be sure." Brian smirked, "Thank God, it'll never happen!"

After a while they fell silent and continued smoking, drinking wine and thinking about everything and nothing. When the joint and the wine were gone, they cleaned up their impromptu picnic, went back upstairs for some quality "wallowing" time and fell asleep without meaning to at an ungodly early hour of ten o'clock in the evening.

That Monday set the pace for the next two days they spent at Britin, which seemed to fly by in a blur. They woke up and had breakfast together by the pool. Justin went for a run, while Brian hit a punching bag that he forgot he had stashed in one of the closets until Justin returned. They showered together, got dressed and spent their mornings working. Brian barricaded himself in his home office and didn't emerge until around one pm. Justin spent a couple of hours on his canvas and a couple of hours working on preliminary sketches for the next issue of Rage, based off of ideas Mike and he had generated on Monday. Justin found one of Deb's vegetarian lasagnas hidden in the freezer, which they happily ate for lunch for the next two days.

The world seemed to leave both Brian and Justin alone on Tuesday afternoon. Justin had already talked with Michael about Rage and with his mother about her upcoming visit to New York before noon. Brian got most of the things on his "to do" list by lunchtime and left everything else in Ted and Cynthia's capable hands. Though Brian expected the occasional phone call or email in the afternoon, none came and Justin and he were able to while away the afternoon uninterrupted watching a James Dean retrospective on AMC, which prompted a lively debate about who was a better actor, better looking and generally cooler, James Dean or Steve McQueen. In the end Justin declared that Paul Newman was leagues ahead of the both of them because he wasn't stupid enough to get himself killed in his prime and lived to a glorious old age of 83, dying an incredible actor, a known philanthropist and still a damn good looking man even at that age. Brian was forced to agree and the debate ended with them watching a DVD of "Cool Hand Luke".

They spent the evening with the rest of the Liberty gang, who wanted to see Justin before he left for New York the next day. Dinner at the Liberty Diner with Emmett, who was single yet again, Michael, Ben, Ted and Blake felt like old times, but only in a good way. They laughed, joked and made fun of Emmett's recent choice of boyfriends quite mercilessly. Emmett took it all in stride with his usual optimism, saying that his prince will come someday and in the meantime, he was more than happy to kiss, and in all other ways entertain, a whole lot of frogs. Brian said that maybe his problems was that he should be looking for a king and not a prince, considering that he's the biggest queen in town.

After dinner no one suggested that they go to Babylon, but Emmett heavily campaigned for going to Woody's - Chanda Lear was giving one of her famous performances, followed by a recently introduced Tuesday Open Mic Nite. Brian didn't mind watching a Chanda Lear show, but watching a bunch of talentless hacks pretend they were on American Idol was just not to be borne. Justin, however, was all for going, since he hasn't been exposed to the wonders of a Liberty open mic night. Brian grudgingly agreed to suffer through what he was sure to be a torturous auditory experience, but said that he expected multiple sexual favors in return. Chanda was in top form, as usual, and gave Justin, whom she hasn't seen in over two years, an enthusiastic hug during intermission between sets.

The second half of the night's entertainment, namely the open mic, was as gruesomely bad as Brian predicted. Emmett, Michael and even Ted swore up and down that the "talent" was usually a lot better, but it seemed that this particular evening the "performances" went from bad to worse. They guys had good time anyway, because Brian just couldn't pass up a glorious opportunity like that to let his sarcastic nature run wild and mercilessly made fun of every single person who had the courage (or the stupidity) to perform. His commentary on what was happening on stage kept the gang in stitches and not to be outdone, the rest of the boys chimed in with their two cents. For the remainder of the night most of the audience at Woody's was paying more attention to their comments than to what was going on at the microphone.

By midnight everyone was ready to leave. They all said goodbye to Justin outside the bar, instinctively knowing that he'd want to spend as much time as possible alone with Brian before leaving Pittsburgh. Brian and Justin got into the Vette and drove along Liberty Avenue towards the highway that would take them to Britin. They caught a red light at an intersection across from a familiar lamppost where they met. Justin studied it thoughtfully and asked as they were driving past:

"Why did you chose me that night, Brian? I've always wondered. You could have taken anyone home that night, why me?"

"It was the way you looked." Brian answered honestly.

"What – ridiculous, laughable?"

"Beautiful. You were just beautiful and so different from everyone else. You weren't pretending or trying too hard. You walked up to the lamp post, leaned against it and just stood there, completely yourself – all confidence, youth and beauty. I wanted you instantly."

"Wasn't pretending, not trying too hard?" Justin laughed in surprise, "I was scared shitless, Brian, so I was doing both. Well, you were pretty high, so it's no surprise you remember it differently."

"I wasn't all that high at that point, Justin. Later, yes, but not right then. Once I walked up to you and started talking your nerves kicked in, as did the pretense, which only made me want you more. It was somehow endearingly sexy, if that makes any sense." Brian shook his head at the memory. "God, you didn't stand a chance!"

At that comment, Justin snorted and, thankful that they were caught at a yet another red light, quickly leaned in towards Brian, captured his lips in a fierce kiss and then whispered in his ear:

"No, Brian...YOU didn't!"

Wednesday morning wasn't going well, again. Brian was beginning to think that he was cursed with Wednesdays from hell; but then he remembered that he was a rational individual and the suck – and not the life-affirming kind – was probably all in his head due to the fact that Justin was leaving in the evening. Thankfully, there were no major problems, but the various minor issues that continued to spring up kept him on the phone and at the computer pretty much non-stop for several hours that morning. He didn't get a moments peace until well past one when he finally joined Justin for lunch in the kitchen. When the phone rang again just as he put a forkful of veggie lasagna in his mouth, he got so frustrated that he just shut the phone completely off and after lunch barked at both Zoe, and Cynthia to handle the rest of the calls that afternoon themselves.

They were silent and somewhat awkward with each other throughout lunch and while Justin was cleaning up the kitchen. The lightheartedness of the last few days and even of that very morning when they joyfully "christened" the little library adjacent to Brian's home office, was somehow gone and replaced with an uneasy tension. Justin's departure was an elephant in the room neither one wanted to acknowledge or mention. Justin, however, didn't want to end his stay in Pitts on such a note and was the first to break the silence.

"Brian, is something wrong?"

"No, just regular bullshit that comes with owning your own business, especially an ad agency. I'm just irritated more than usual, for some reason." Brian evaded, "You know, I think I'll go hit my punching bag for about 20 minutes. Mind?"

"Of course not. I was thinking of going for a swim myself."

"That's great, Sunshine. I'll see you in half an hour or so, OK?" Brian walked out, as usual, not waiting for a reply.

An hour later Brian found Justin asleep on his stomach in one of the lounge chairs by the pool. He studied him for a couple of minutes and then woke him up for fear of Justin getting a sunburn. Brian insisted on rubbing some aloe vera lotion on his back, just in case.

"How was the boxing session, helpful?"

"Yeah, it was. Sunshine...Justin, look at me." He turned him around until Justin was looking straight into his eyes. "Listen, are you listening? About earlier..truth is, it wasn't all about work, just some of it. I was being a dick mostly because your leaving feels...somehow strange. It's like a déjà vu, that I know for a fact has never really happened. I can't explain it, but it's been irritating the fuck out of me all morning."

"I feel the same way, actually."

"Good, than I am not completely bat-shit-insane. In any case, I don't want to spoil the last day of your trip, so let's just forget it, OK?"

"OK."

"So, when's your flight?"

"7:30. I should probably leave in a couple of hours, say by 5:30, to give myself plenty of time."

"I'll take you to the airport."

"There's no need. Besides, I have to return the rental anyway..."

"No!" Brian interrupted. "I'm taking you to the airport. Indulge me, Sunshine. I'll have your Jeep returned later today, don't worry."

"OK. Thanks, Brian."

"There's no need. There's one more thing we have to do before you leave."

"What's that?"

"Go upstairs to our bedroom and go back to bed."

Several hours later Brian woke with a start, immediately realizing that Justin wasn't there. The clock by the bedside read 8 pm – Justin's been in the air for half an hour. Brian was dismayed that Justin walked out like that without waking him or saying a word. He looked around for a note, a sign, anything at all and then noticed his cell phone. He picked it up hoping to see a text, instead there was a new voice mail in queue.

"Hey, Brian. Don't be upset that I went to the airport alone and didn't even wake you up to say good bye. Well, it isn't a good bye anyway, it's 'later'. It seemed cruel to wake you up just for that, you looked so damn peaceful and beautiful asleep. I took a picture of your fine naked behind for my own prurient purposes in order to keep me and my dick sane until you come to the Big Apple for a visit. Anyway, when you get this message text me the word 'later', so I know you got this voice mail and everything is a-OK. Anyway, I love you. You know what? Fuck it! I am IN love with you! Over the course of this week I pretty much came to the conclusion that I am more in love with you now than I have ever been. Deal with that, Brian Kinney! OK, later..."

Brian listened to that voice mail three times, until he realized that listening to it any more will definitely be venturing a little too far into lesbian territory. So, instead, he carefully made sure that the voice mail was saved and sent a text back to his blond:

"Later, B

P.S. Ditto!"

Disclaimer: All belongs to Showtime and CowLip. No infringement intended.

A/N: A quick note on the general rosy happiness of the last couple of chapters. I know they are disgustingly sappy and bright. I realize that the sugar content in the last two installments is bordering on overload (OK, I kid and exaggerate...it's 3 am in the morning, it's what you get!). My thoughts are that after such a long separation the boys deserve some happiness, fun and laughter (and if Brian and/or Justin are slightly OOT, so be it!). Don't forget, the difficulties of a long distance relationship are looming, so it won't be this easy for long.

Thanks for reading and please DO let me know what you think. :)