The Lightning Strike
These accidents of faith and nature
They tend to stick in the spokes of you
But every now and then the trend bucks
And you're repaired by more than glue
Seven years together (more or less), deeply into the quadruple digits (possibly nearly quintuple) of number of fucks, and somehow the condom had never broken.
Until, one night, it did.
Brian didn't realize until he started to pull out. Justin was all satiated smiles, commenting almost drunkenly about being dripped on, then suddenly sitting up.
Brian saw that "shit" and raised him a "fuck" and many repetitions of both. He counted to ten, dragged Justin to the bathroom, gave him a little shove into the shower, and was proud of himself for not punching his own reflection in the mirror.
Justin said, "It'll be fine, Brian," and then washed quietly.
He found Brian on the couch with a drink in his hand when he got out. Took it from him, set it down, and guided him back to their bed. They lay, not sleeping, not talking, only lightly touching… Justin's head against Brian's shoulder. Two of Brian's fingers curled over Justin's wrist.
The next day, they went together to get tested.
Brian was serious as a heart attack the whole time, but he wasn't very worried. Despite the fact that he was happy, and the panic that usually brought. He'd been damn near ridiculously happy for almost a year, and yeah, he'd spent a long time pretty much waiting for the other shoe to drop every day, but he'd gotten better about it. And he knew the chances of him or Justin having anything were slim to none.
They both got tested regularly and always used protection. Justin didn't even trick. Brian did, occasionally, but really only enough to appease his partner.
When Justin moved from New York back to Pittsburgh and back into the loft the year before, Brian had still been ready to get married. Justin had said no, not because he didn't want to, but out of (Brian had deduced) some twisted sense of guilt for having left. It was this same misplaced emotion that had caused Justin to insist that Brian keep tricking.
If he didn't, Justin would start going on about how Brian shouldn't have to change who he was, blah-blah, that bullshit again. Justin would remember leaving Brian alone on their bed to go get on a plane and would get fucking tears in his eyes. So it was easier to just indulge, maybe once every few weeks. It's not like it was torture or anything. But even those instances were mostly kept to blow jobs.
The first day of waiting for the results, Brian found himself quite pissed at Justin. As far as he was concerned, what had happened just pointed out that they shouldn't need to be using condoms anymore.
"Now, listen here, Sunshine. I asked you to marry me. As insane as I'm sure it sounded coming out of my mouth, I fucking meant it and I still do. From that point on… you were it for me. I didn't want the tricks anymore, didn't need them anymore. I didn't even want to pretend I needed them anymore, and I still don't. When you were in New York, that was one thing, but you've been in our bed every night for a year, Justin. What the fuck? We should be fucking raw, constantly. My cum should be inside you and running out of your ass every day, right now, and we shouldn't even have to think about it except to think how fucking lucky we are! So, fuck you! The tricking is done and I don't want to hear another word about it!"
Stunned and feeling more love than he'd thought his body could hold, Justin wisely kept his tears at bay, and offered just one more word about it.
They kissed slowly and jerked each other off slowly, then not so slowly.
The second day, Brian tried at first to distract himself with work. Justin tried to draw, but neither of them got very far. Eventually, they gave up and held each other, wrapped around each other, and watched movies, just together.
When the call came, the person was smart enough and decent enough to give them the results they'd been waiting for first. Both negative, for HIV and everything else. All clear. But…
"There's a new test we've started to run on blood samples from gay males…"
Justin gripped Brian's hand hard as they looked at each other, thinking the same thing but trying not to. Is there a new disease? A new AIDS?
"…and there was a positive result. Shit, only Mr. Taylor should be on the phone for this."
Brian's heart sped up and away from its place of calm, seizing in his chest. Justin tried to tell the guy on the phone that anything he needed to say, Brian could hear, but his mouth had gone too dry to form the words.
"Just fucking tell us!" Brian yelled.
There was one worry they'd hadn't worried over. One possibility they hadn't quite realized was possible.
"Mr. Taylor, it appears that you are pregnant."
Slowly the day breaks apart in our hands
(Lyrics used throughout from the Snow Patrol song epic, "The Lightning Strike")