Holiday House

Bianca and Brian: a [not] love story

Brian wandered through the hallways of his house, looking for Bianca as he went. Katherine had already retired to her own house for the evening by the time Brian peeled himself off the bench at the wharf and made his way home, and Bianca, so far, was nowhere to be found. He needed to see him; he needed an anchor in the midst of this storm.

"Bianca?" He called out, looking in the weight room to see if he was exercising. Nope; the room was empty and the lights were off. He'd already checked in his bedroom and the guest room Bianca normally stayed in.

"Biaaaaaaaaancaaaaaa," he called louder - a lot louder - as he made his way back to the living room and opened the old oak French doors that led to the patio and the pool.

"BINX," he shouted, then spotted him lounging on a chaise by the pool, a martini in hand.

"WHY are you screaming?" Bianca laughed as he sipped his martini, then sat it on the ground to stand and greet Brian, "I'm right here queen, Jesus. You're going to wake the dead."

Brian smiled as Bianca stood by the pool, clad in a pair of short black swim trunks that hugged his thighs in all the right places. He was pushing 60, which weirded Brian out sometimes, but he was still in top shape and more attractive than ever. They'd all started out together so young, sometimes it was hard to think about the fact that they were aging. "Sorry. I couldn't find you," he muttered as he rushed to Bianca's side and wrapped his arms around him.

Bianca raised an eyebrow as Brian ran his short nails down his back, leaving burning tracks as he scratched him. He knew this might be the case; that Brian would come home frustrated and riled up and ready to get all his nervous energy out. He was hoping he wouldn't, because it was so hard to tell him no when he got like that. Bianca had met so few people willing to show him who was boss that when Brian wanted to he was powerless to do anything other than let him. It was one of his very favorite moods of Brian's, but Bianca only liked it when he was the one who had put him in that mood.

"Well, I'm right here. Miss me?" Bianca flashed a brilliant smile as he stepped back out of Brian's reach and shrugged his shoulders, posing for just a moment.

"Always," Brian smiled as he moved in and wrapped his arms back around Bianca, leaning in to kiss him this time.

Bianca let it happen and kissed him back, but stopped him when he felt his tongue against his lips. He would do a lot of things for Brian, but not this. He would not be his distraction. "Hey - hey," he laughed quietly, "calm down Cujo, you just got home. How did it go?"

"It was fine," Brian sighed, feeling rejected. He let his shoulders slump as Bianca sat back down on the lounger, then motioned for him to sit on the one next to him.

"Just fine? Fourteen years of unrequited love and pining and it was "fine". Ok." Bianca looked down his nose at him as he sat and took a sip of his martini. He was wholly unconvinced by Brian's answer that anything was in fact fine.

"We didn't talk that much," Brian shrugged, "we walked for about forty five minutes, he yelled at me for being an asshole, and I told him I wanted to see him again. Then he left and I sat at the wharf and stared into the void for - I don't even know how many hours."

Bianca looked out over the pool as Brian relaxed into the lounger, seemingly sated for the moment. Or maybe he was just sad. "Well, I guess that's as good a start as any. When will you see him again?"

"When we go to Los Angeles, I think. At least, I told him I would be there. I don't know. He has my number. He said he would text me. We'll see if it happens before he comes to his senses."

A comfortable silence settled between them as they watched the water lap against the edge of the pool in the cool breeze, just strong enough to feel chilly outside. Bianca could only assume there were a million things going through Brian's mind. Hell, there were a million things going through his.