Good Intentions Ch. 04

Note: Okay, I lied. This isn't the last chapter. It'll be either the next one or another if I get inspired.

**

The entire time Quinten was out on his date, Brian had been a ball of worry.

He kept mulling over what his brother said earlier that day, about Cal being upset with him and what that could mean. While he didn't know the dynamics of their relationship, none of it sat right with him, especially considering it had made Quinten extra quiet and standoffish. If it had been a simple disagreement, then why the long face? Why the reluctance to talk about it at all? Truth be told, Brian hadn't wanted Quinten to go and see his boyfriend. In fact, he didn't want his brother to see him at all. Period.

It was stupid and selfish and he had no right to want to control Quinten's life, but something irreversible had changed between them. When he had looked down into his brother's face and saw that vulnerable look in his eyes, the universe suddenly rearranged itself with sharp clarity. Mere words couldn't convey the way Quinten had looked at him like he was a light in the darkness, like he held the weight of his world in his hands. He didn't bother to try, knowing that nothing would suffice. But what he did know was that something had touched his soul, and when Quinten broke decorum between them and kissed him, he didn't fight it.

To keep himself occupied, Brian turned to ye old faithful: Solitaire. He quickly lost himself in the menial task of clicking through cards, stacking them and either frowning when he lost or watching like a drone as the cards flew around the screen in victory. It helped, a little, in getting him to forget that his brother was out with some guy Brian never met, sucking on a cock that he knew wasn't as half as good as his own... A few times he caught himself grinding his teeth and setting off a headache.

Two hours after Quinten left and Brian had won twenty-two out of sixty rounds, he faintly heard the front door open and close with a quiet snap. Voices followed right after, low and crooning. One, his mother's, the second, Quinten's.

Brian instantly straightened up from his miserable slouch, his heart leaping into his throat with gusto. He hurried out into the hallway and peered down over the banister to find his sibling in the middle of shedding his huge coat while their mother said something about how she saved him a plate from the dinner he had skipped. Quinten didn't seem that interested but he nodded along and was obviously zoned out while she continued fussing over him. Once he had removed all his outer wear, she literally got behind him and started guiding him towards the dining room, determined to make sure he ate. Brian smiled fondly at the whiny "Mooooooom" and set off down the stairs on the pretense to wheedle information out of him, when in truth all he wanted was to hold him in his arms again.

Quinten was just sitting down when Brian rounded the corner in a controlled skid. A frown immediately pulled at the corners of Brian's lips when, this close up, he saw that Quinten's hair was still damp. It should have dried a while ago, unless...

"Hey, Quin," Brian greeted softly.

Quinten startled and looked up from where he was having a staring contest with the tablecloth. Brian took quick stock of him. The first thing he noticed was how tired he looked now. In the span of just a few short hours, he went from soft and boyish to looking like he aged ten years. His face was red from the cold and drawn, his eyes dewy with the need to close and rest. His lips were mildly puffy from all the abuse he'd sustained that day and his nose looked particularly aggrieved as if something had been impacting it (more than likely his boyfriend's pelvis), but all-in-all he seemed to be in one piece.

"Oh, hey," Quinten muttered, quickly looking away.

Brian sat beside him, and after craning his head around to make sure their mother wasn't about to suddenly appear with Quinten's dinner, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Whether on reflex or not, Quinten immediately jerked away from him and pointedly angled his shoulders to the side. A stab of hurt went through Brian but he put on a nonaffected smile and leaned back.

"Sooo, how was it? How'd it go?"

"Fine," Quinten answered shortly.

Brian drummed his fingers along the table, knowing full well it hadn't gone 'fine'. "Things are good between you, then?"

Quinten shrugged and ran a hand through his tousled curls. "Guess so, yeah."

"You... guess?"

"Yes. Look I don't know what you want me to say, Brian," Quinten snapped, turning halfway in his chair to glare at him. Brian pinched his lips together. "He fucked my face, came all over my hair, and I guess I was good enough because now he wants to-" He cut himself off abruptly as though literally biting his tongue. "Never mind."

Brian searched his face, believing he could see a bit of fear underneath his brother's frustration. As much as he wanted to reach out and draw him into a hug, he kept his hands to himself; Quinten looked like he was seconds from blowing up.

"Tell me," he said eventually. "Whatever he wants to do, I can help you."

Quinten gave a weary sigh, his eyes dipping to a point somewhere above Brian's heart. "I... honestly I don't think you can. He..." He stopped, swallowed, then tentatively raised his gaze back up, bright green meeting pale green.

Something in Brian lurched, and he knew. He just knew what Quinten was about to say. He didn't interrupt. He had to hear him say it. He wanted to hear him say it.

"He told me... that he wants to... to..."

"Here you go, sweetie!"

Quinten clammed up as their mother appeared with his plate of steaming food in one hand and a glass of water in the other, oblivious to the moment she had unintentionally shattered. He completely faced forward, looking a little green.

Fucking hell, Brian thought blandly, their mother seemed to be having perfect impeccable timing today.

"We'll talk later," Brian told him under his breath, and at the tiny nod he got in return, he squeezed his shoulder to convey his support and made his exit.

The next morning they definitely did not talk about it.

Quinten mostly kept to himself, his face a perpetual blank canvas that left Brian feeling disturbed. While he'd been able to find an easy opening yesterday, that didn't seem to be the case today, making what they'd been through feel like a dream. Yesterday had been nothing short of amazing. Every moment spent with his brother had filled his heart with all the usual things a normal sibling relationship should have, plus more. And Quinten had been happy. He saw it in every glance, smile, hug, and word that they shared.

But just like that, they were back at square one and Brian didn't know what to do. The only thing he could do was give Quinten space. Brian loved him so, so much, but he wasn't going to push him before he was ready to talk. To combat temptation, he decided to hit Garret up for a late afternoon soiree into his liquor cabinet. Garret couldn't say "yes" fast enough, and by the end of the hour Brian was standing at his best friend's door, desperate to get drunk just to occupy his brain with something that wasn't driving him mad.

**

"Bry-Bry!" Garret exclaimed the minute he opened his door to Brian's chagrined face. "It's so good to see you, man." His arms flew around the younger man in a bone crushing hug.

Brian returned it graciously. As much as he enjoyed his brother's company, it was nice being able to hug someone who was his height. "Garebear! Hey, I'm really sorry about the other night. Quinten needed me," he babbled.

"I told you it's cool."

Garret pulled back after thumping him heartedly on the back and smirked. Brian idly noted what appeared to be a fresh hickey at the underside of his clean shaven jaw, no more than a day old. He wasn't surprised; Garret's penchant for getting laid at a moment's notice should be studied by scholars everywhere. It was partially his good looks -his flowing, silky blond locks, smoky blue eyes and camera ready body and smile- but mostly his charisma and bullshitting skills. It wouldn't surprise him if in twenty years he turned on the news to see his friend running for President.

"How is the little scamp anyway?"

Brian barked out a laugh, already in a lightened mood. "He's fine."

"Good. Well, get in here, you're letting all the heat out," Garret playfully admonished.

Once Brian was fully inside and the door closed, Garret led them further into his apartment, the gaudy holiday house robe he wore flailing behind him like some cape. The inside of his place, unsurprisingly, was fully decked out for Christmas. Tinsel around the doorframes, baubles and paper snowflakes taped to the walls and windows, tiny reindeer figurines and snowmen and elves on every flat surface, and a holly wreath on either side of his front door. To name a few.

A stocking with his initials hung on one side of his flat screen t.v while another with his little sister's hung on the other, both already bulging with treats. A modest five foot tall tree sat in front of the balcony doors, fully decorated, of course, the lights wound around it off but no doubt blinding when turned on in total darkness. The entire apartment smelled like gingerbread thanks to the million candles strewn about the place.

To most people, it was gaudy, vomit inducing, and enough to cause a migraine, but compared to the sparse decoration at his own house, Brian found it all to be very beautiful. And inspiring. The tree they had had barely been touched other than by their mother when they first bought it weeks ago, but maybe he could entice Quinten to finish it up, together.

"What was wrong with him?" Garret asked, easily breaking through Brian's scheming and stupidly making him wonder if he read his mind. "Other than being a little brat."

Brian bit his tongue to keep from snapping at him for insulting his brother. It'd be out of character if he suddenly jumped down his best friend's throat for a little friendly ribbing that he himself helped felicitate all the time. Besides, it wasn't like Garret knew they'd been getting along again; for all he knew, Quinten was being a giant brat.

"It... boyfriend trouble," he said eventually.

Garret hummed, only partially listening. By then they were in the kitchen, Garret digging around in his liquor cabinet for something they could both enjoy while Brian watched him, his arms folded and hip leaning against the edge of a counter. The tinkling of the bottles knocking against one another reminded Brian of the little silver bells that had been attached to the wreath on the door.

"Oh? Well no offense, but why's he talking to you about boys? What kind of advice did you give him? How to not get pregnant?"

"Ha-ha." Brian rolled his eyes as his friend snickered at his own joke. "Yeah I know shit all about being with a guy but it's not like it's rocket science."

"True. Guys are easier though. Suck their dick and you're golden."

Brian burned hot. He had no idea how to respond to that so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"So go on, what was the issue?"

"I'd rather not say, it's a private matter."

"He's eighteen, I doubt it was anything serious."

"It's still none of your fucking business."

Not taking offense to that, Garret whirled around with a half-empty bottle of cognac in his hands and gestured with it questioningly. Brian nodded his approval, more in it for the company than caring what his taste buds thought. Garret handed it off to him and snatched up two glasses sitting in his drying rack. With their beverage of choice, the two friends plopped down on the couch in the living room, the cushions lumpier than the one Brian's parents owned. They filled their glasses to the brim and toasted each other with a crystalline clink.

"Cheers!"

Brian took a hearty first sip and gave a full body shiver as it flowed down the back of his throat. The burn was exactly what he needed after the weekend he had. He took another then crossing his right leg over his opposite ankle, slouched back with a pleased sigh. His knee bumped against Garret's thigh but he didn't complain.

"Huh," Garret muttered, staring at him.

Brian cocked his head, only to immediately blush when he saw where Garret was looking, straight at his crotch. "C-can I help you?"

Garret lifted his eyes, clearly amused by his response. "Sorry. It's just, you're looking... sexy."

Not understanding, Brian glanced down at himself. He wasn't wearing anything special or anything to accentuate his body. No tight pants, no designer sweater, just casual everyday clothes he'd worn in front of his friends before. What Garret saw, he couldn't begin to guess, but he'd take the compliment anyway.

"Thanks, I guess."

"No problem. It's hard to ignore a guy who's giving off 'I'm regularly getting laid' vibes," Garret said casually.

Brian nearly dropped his glass into his lap. Beside him Garret sipped at his like he hadn't just destroyed his best friend's composure. "I what? What gives you that idea? Dude, were you drinking before I got here?" he tried joking.

But Garret wasn't one to be thrown by his attempt at steering the conversation into another lane. If anything, he leaned into it full tilt. "I know the look, man." He sat up and set his drink down on the coffee table, no coasters in sight. "You can tell me," he needled excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"There isn't any girl."

Garret's handsome face wrinkled with a frown, not buying it. "Really...?"

"Really. What about you? Where'd you get the shiner?" Brian thought he successfully deflected that time, but Garret was like a fucking bloodhound when he caught a scent.

"Unless..."

Brian inexplicably felt his cheeks burn. He could almost see the gears spinning around in his friend's brilliant brain, as he had stupidly given him an obvious opening when he denied there being a woman in his life. He tried playing it cool and busied himself with topping off his cup, his hands shaking around the bottle.

"You want a top-?" he started to ask when Garret yelled over top of him.

"Holy shit, are you fucking a man?!"

"No!" But even as he said it with as much conviction as possible, Garret knew he had hit it right on the money.

He started crowing with laughter, his head tipping back and both hands covering his delighted face with childish glee. Brian glared at him, his hands curled into tight fists to keep from reaching out and yanking on the blond's long golden tresses, currently held in place by a Santa-themed scrunchie.

"What's so fucking funny?" he hissed.

"You! I can't believe it! Dear god!"

Annoyed, Brian moodily sipped on his drink while the other man took his time calming down. Once he did (after wiping the tears from his face, the goddamn drama queen), Brian set his glass down and crossed his arms.

"Are you done?"

"Y-yeah," Garret hiccupped, his pink lips stretched wide. "Sorry it's just, I've been trying for years to get you to broaden your horizons and it's just- it's just out of fucking nowhere! Aha, I needa drink!"

He snatched his glass up and took a hearty swig. Brian looked on, grudgingly impressed. If he did that, he'd be on the floor, passed out. Or dead. After practically draining it, Garret all but slammed the thing back down and refocused on Brian with glimmering blue eyes. His generous mouth was wet with moisture, distracting Brian for half a second with a vague stir in his pants. Garret was easy on the eyes, always had been, but with the way he was acting, any faint sparks of lust went sailing out the holly-jolly door.

"Okay, give me all the details! I can't believe you haven't said anything yet!"

"That's because there's nothing to say!"

"Briaaaaaan, c'moooooon!" His friend reached over and playfully grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a few times. "Who is he? How'd you two meet? Are you still a top or have you tried bottoming yet?"

Brian groaned and covered his face. A mistake. This was all one big mistake. He should have stayed home and put up with Quinten's brooding; it would have been far less traumatizing than this!

"Garret, please. I'm being serious. I'm still straight," he added weakly, as the moment he said it his brain helpfully replayed the part of his encounter with Quinten where he started giving him a blow job. He didn't know what had possessed him to try it, but he'd been determined to see it through once Quinten started mewling and stroking his hair and breathily telling him that he loved him...

As though reading his mind, Garret bit into his lip to keep from smirking. "Right. Fine, I get it. You're embarrassed. I was too, the first time I slept with a guy." He sobered up, taking on a serious air that Brian quite appreciated -- even if he was ignoring everything Brian was trying to tell him. "But you don't need to be. I'm sorry I laughed, I was caught by surprise." Sobering up from his burst of emotion, Garret laid a hand over Brian's knee to give it a friendly squeeze. "Brian, you're my best friend. You can trust me."

Trust... it was something Quinten had given Brian from the moment they started messing around back on Friday night and it was what Brian had offered yesterday when Quinten looked to him for reassurance. After everything they'd been through, Brian held his brother's trust close to his heart. But... at the same time Brian knew he needed someone to help him burden everything going on. Garret had been his close friend for close to fifteen years now. He was quick to temper and quick to laughter, but in all those years of knowing each other, Brian couldn't recall a single instance where Garret had been malicious or an outright asshole. Brian would never admit to another soul that he quite enjoyed watching his little brother choke on his cock, but he could at least admit that he didn't mind tasting another man's cum.

"You..." He cleared his throat, the words catching there awkwardly. "You have to promise not to tell anyone."

Garret nodded solemnly, all signs of humor gone. "I won't."

Brian deflated, his eyes closing. He could do this. He could. "You're right," he said softly, "I have been... with a guy." Garret responded by gripping his knee harder in support. Brian grasped the back of his knuckles and held on. "I don't even know where to start. Curiosity on my part, desperation on his, I guess. It was supposed to be a one time thing, but the next thing I know we're repeating the same mistake again and again and I want to stop but it feels so good being with him."

"Why is it a mistake?" Garret asked, voice low and curious. "You guys sound like you've got the hots for each other and can't keep away. That's not a bad thing."

"It is when he's got a boyfriend and I, well..." He reached for his glass and took two great gulps to bolster his nerves. His tolerance for alcohol was on par with an infant's, and right now he had a light buzz starting at the back of his head. In hindsight, they should have dug out a bag of chips or something but he didn't want to interrupt his own spiel. It felt good to get it out in the open.

"Shit, dude," Garret murmured. "So what are you gonna do?"

"No fucking clue," he said, laughing under his breath. "Probably take the easy way out and let him suck my dick when he asks for it. If he wasn't so good at it, breaking things off would have been a no brainer." With that admission, Brian took another hearty gulp straight down the gullet. The buzz grew fuzzier and warmer as the cognac settled like a weight in his stomach, kinda like a fat dog flopping over onto one's lap for pets, and since it makes your heart happy, you welcome the floating feeling with a grin. Swaying forward slightly, Brian uncapped the bottle and poured himself some more.