This is the fourth story in the Rewriting History series, and it follows Gasped the Rocket. The R rating is for language, not sex. There is humor as well as angst, and I sincerely hope their relationship still makes sense in the context of this. Hope you like it. :)

Warnings: m/m, bad language, angst, AU, and spoilers for the movie, though less so in this story.

~Silk

*****

Your Lips Ruby Blue

By Silk

When Brian woke up, he had no way of telling what time it was. There were no windows in the tiny room he shared with Curt. He raised his head off Curt's chest and blearily focused his eyes on his watch. "Oh, shite!" he yelled, startling Curt out of an especially pleasant dream that featured his lover. "Wha--?"

"We're going to miss the fucking plane!" Brian shouted, scrambling to pull up his pants.

"Damn," Curt swore, relatively quietly for him. "I'm not even packed, man. Looks like you might have to leave me behind after all."

"No!" Brian grabbed Curt by the shoulders in a surprisingly strong grip and managed to pull him to his feet in one motion. "I'll buy you whatever you need when we get to England. But we've got to go *now*."

Together they raced down the hall, ignoring the elevator, and finding their way to the service stairs. "Brian!" Curt cried. "You *do* realize we're up seven floors, don't you?"

Brian grinned as his palm hit the door to the stairwell. "Ever seen 'A Hard Day's Night'?"

"Yeah," Curt replied, a skeptical expression on his face.

"You can be Paul. People were always chasing him."

"Oh, no, *you* should be Paul. *You're* the *pretty* one."

"I'd rather be *John*. He was the *artistic* one."

"I don't know why. You're obviously that dirty little old man."

"The one they were always on about how *clean* he was?"

"Yeah."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Curt said, growing increasingly out of breath as they descended the stairs at a breakneck pace. "They were probably lovers."

Brian laughed as his booted feet stamped down the last few steps. "John and Paul? Or Ringo and the little old man?"

"Have to be John and Paul, man. *No one* would sleep with *Ringo*."

They reached the ground floor of the hotel in record time, flying past the desk clerk who made a feeble attempt to hail them. "Y'know, you'd better not make that remark in England. To some people, the Beatles are *sacred*."

"Spoken like someone who's never heard of Led Zeppelin, man," Curt scoffed.

"Who?"

*****

Luckily for them, the limo was waiting in front of the hotel. Mandy was already doing a slow burn, but her temper flared when she noticed the disheveled state of her husband. And then there was Curt. Lately wherever Brian appeared, Curt followed. "Good thing you showed up, love. Jerry wanted to leave without you, just to teach you a lesson, but I told him you would come. You *did* come, didn't you?"

Brian flushed despite his resolve not to be baited by Mandy. It was scary how well she managed to manipulate him sometimes. But he was saved from having to answer by Curt, who affectionately rubbed his thumb over the back of Brian's hand in an apparent attempt to reassure him. "Yeah. I made sure he *came*, Mandy," Curt said, the double entendre clearly intentional.

Mandy turned her face to the window and ignored the two men clambering into the back seat. Just wait till they were back on her home turf, Mandy thought, managing to overlook the fact that she was *American*. She'd been pretending to be a London party girl, much to everyone's amusement, for so long that she wasn't sure *who* she was sometimes.

*****

Once they were in the air, things settled down to a fairly civilized level. Mandy chattered brightly, Brian pretended he was interested, and Curt ordered a drink to steady his nerves. The sight of Brian and Mandy, their heads so close together, rocked his world, even though his heart told him to trust Brian.

Curt was ready to give up and get drunk for the remainder of the flight. But suddenly Brian was there at his elbow, blue eyes sparkling. "You're going to stay at my house. I just spoke to Jerry, and he's going to make sure you have your own room and everything."

"Great," Curt said sullenly, draining his glass with a stony glare. "That way I won't bother *you* or *your wife*."

Brian gave Curt a troubled look. "Curt?"

"What were you two talking about that was so fucking interesting anyway?"

"What do you-"

Brian could feel the urge to plead for forgiveness bubbling up in his throat, and he quickly buried it beneath an outward show of anger. "Nothing to do with *you*, Curt."

"I bet." Curt started to signal for another drink, but Brian grabbed his wrist. "Getting drunk won't help."

"Says you," Curt snapped. This time their eyes met, and Brian saw Curt's underlying insecurity for what it was. Then, in a flash, it was gone, making him wonder if he'd imagined it.

"I was going to sit back here with you for the rest of the flight, but you're obviously on some paranoid head trip," Brian said, beginning to stand up.

"Don't go," Curt rasped, his voice thick and filled with need.

Brian looked down and saw Curt's hand clutching his jacket so tightly that he was wrinkling the fabric. With a sigh, Brian sat back down. He was immediately enveloped by a pair of muscular arms. "Thank you," Curt breathed against Brian's ear.

Brian closed his eyes, content to be held for the moment, knowing that moment would end way too soon. "I take it you want me to stay," Brian teased. For once the unthinking remarks that came readily to his lips made him feel awkward and out of synch.

Curt knew it, too. Brian could tell when he whispered, "Don't want Maxwell Demon, babe. Want *you*."

"I'm here, Curt," Brian said, his own hands impatient to plunge themselves deep into his lover's long hair. But he could feel everyone's eyes on them.

He cursed himself for being a fool when he reluctantly pushed Curt away. He registered the hurt in Curt's blue-gray eyes, and his heart seized. In such a short time, they had traveled far beyond the boundaries of mere infatuation. This was *love* as he had never known it.

Mandy regarded her husband with cool consideration. She had never seen Brian look at *her* that way, as if her feelings mattered one way or the other. That was one of the things that had attracted her to him. That 'want-take-have' mentality could so easily be mistaken for true passion.

But this...this felt *real*.

"Something wrong, boys?" she asked, plastering a fake smile on her artfully drawn mouth.

Curt flashed her a look of such utter hostility that she almost faltered where she stood. He stood, albeit a bit unsteadily. "I gotta pee."

He pushed past her and made his way uncertainly to the bathroom. Mandy stared thoughtfully after him for a few moments. When she turned back to face Brian, his face was carefully rearranged to reflect the bland coldness of his stage persona. She felt the barrier between them as though it were a physical door he'd just slammed in her face.

Mandy laughed. It was a careless, brittle sound that made Brian's ears ache. "Well, for heaven's sake, go after him, darling. You know you want to."

"Fuck off, Mandy," Brian said softly, the words somehow having more power because they came from *him*. Not Maxwell Demon.

"I was just trying to help," she called gleefully as Brian followed the path that Curt had taken.

*****

Brian rapped gently on the bathroom door. He heard water running, and then he heard Curt clear his throat. "I'll be out in a minute, man."

Brian pressed his lips as close to the door as he dared and whispered, "Let me in, Curt."

"No."

"Why?"

I don't want you to see me this fucked up, Curt thought. He dabbed at his eyes and noted how badly his eyeliner had run. There was nothing else he could do but wash his face.

He was in the process of wiping off his face when Brian pushed open the door. It wasn't locked. Curt had been so distraught, he hadn't even thought about locking it.

"Are you okay?"

Curt buried his face in the towel he'd been using. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" he replied, his voice muffled and hard to read.

"Please let me in, Curt."

Curt shook his head. "You *are* in, man. What the hell are you talking about?"

Brian moved closer, a difficult task under the best of circumstances, given the size of airplane bathrooms. Whatever Curt was going to say next caught in his throat as he stared helplessly at Brian.

Brian kissed him, long, soul-drugging kisses to go with the caress of his long, elegant fingers pressing into Curt's cheeks. Curt groaned and sank his hands into Brian's hair. This was what he'd been longing for since the moment they'd gotten on the plane.

He backed Brian up against the door. Brian threw back his head and opened his eyes to gaze raptly at his lover. "I love you."

Like a starving man offered a feast, Curt swooped down on Brian's mouth, plundering it like the treasure it was. Words. Words could lie. People lied with words. But this...*this* could not be faked.

End