This is the thirty-fourth story in the Rewriting History series, and it follows On the Swoon.

This was meant to be funny from the get go, but at the last moment, the angst monster crept in and had his shot. But it's okay. It was brief, and things are back to normal in Velvey-land. But Brian did give me a brief moment there... ;)

Things to look forward to? Two words. Brian's dark hair. Irish accent. Okay, that seems to be five words, not two. But you get the idea. :lol

Warnings: m/m, AU, angst, humor, bad language. No spoilers for the movie. We're completely off the map now.

~Silk

*****

Beauty Reveals Everything

By Silk


Early morning light streamed through the sheer white curtains and spilled across the entwined lovers on the floor, swathing their nakedness with almost painterly beauty. Curt had already made one futile attempt to get up, but against all odds, Brian woke, staring at him with wounded eyes. "Please don't leave me."

"Baby-"

Brian clutched at him anxiously, and Curt eventually relented, allowing himself to be drawn back into his lover's almost painfully tight embrace. "Stay."

Far from disquieted by Brian's reaction, Curt took heart that he was no longer being taken for granted. For Brian, this was as good as an admission that he was dependent on Curt. Curt couldn't help but feel that Brian was opening up to him in ways he had only dreamed about before.

He played with Brian's hair, watching the visible signs of relaxation slowly appear in Brian's face. With every stroke of Curt's fingers, Brian's eyes grew heavier as sleep pulled him back into its grasp. "I promise I won't leave you, Brian," Curt whispered. "I swear."

Brian murmured drowsily, "Don't swear."

It was a standing joke between them whenever one of them made an unexpectedly heartfelt vow. Curt smiled, unable to resist teasing him. "Well, I might have to leave you after all, babe. Sooner or later, I gotta pee."

A faint curve of Brian's lips let Curt know that he'd heard him. "Uh huh," he mumbled.

Curt nudged the hair off Brian's forehead and kissed him. Brian's arms tightened convulsively around him.

They hadn't come this far only to lose each other. Curt closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

*****

When they woke again, the sun was considerably higher in the sky. Curt stirred restlessly and opened his eyes, enjoying the play of sunlight on Brian's light brown hair for several moments before breaking the comfortable silence that surrounded them.

Brian's reaction wasn't long in coming.

"You want to *what*?"

"Go shopping, man."

Brian groaned and curled his arms around Curt's waist. "I hate to bring this up, Curt, but Brighton isn't exactly the shopping capital of Britain. Besides," he added sulkily, "I *hate* shopping."

"You'll like this."

Brian drew back and gave his lover his haughtiest look. "I thought we were going to stay in bed until we got tired of each other."

"That's a fucking *impossibility*, babe."

Brian's face cleared instantly, and he rewarded Curt with an ardent kiss that left both of them breathless. "Good boy. That was the right answer."

"It's the *only* answer, Bri."

Brian eyed Curt suspiciously. "You're being extremely agreeable."

"I'm an agreeable kind of guy."

"Like hell you are. You're moody and demanding and-" Brian stopped, transfixed by the unexpected softness in Curt's lambent gray eyes.

"And?" Curt prompted.

"And...I love you to death," Brian finished huskily.

They kissed, tenderly at first, then more urgently, Brian's hands winding through Curt's hair. They reluctantly broke apart, and Brian lay his head on Curt's chest, seeking the skin to skin contact he craved, no, *needed*. With a low moan, he said, "You're going to *make* me go shopping, aren't you?"

Curt chuckled and buried his face in Brian's hair. "Yeah, babe. You'll *love* it."

"No, I won't," Brian complained.

"You have to have clothes, Bri."

"No, I don't," Brian disagreed. "I can wear yours."

"Mmm, as hot as you look in my clothes, baby, you're going to need a whole new look, remember?"

Brian gave in with a sigh. "I want to look like *you*."

"You still got that thing about wanting to be *me*, babe?"

"No," Brian said softly, kissing Curt's chest. "I'm too happy being *me* now."

And Brian proceeded to demonstrate why.

*****

By the time they finally tumbled out of bed, it was early afternoon. A cursory shower and hurried dressing, made more difficult by Brian's insistence on helping Curt, found them on the street, searching in vain for a clothing store. "We might have to drive, man."

Brian opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips. They were standing in front of an old warehouse, obviously recently renovated, when Brian noticed the small but significant trickle of well-dressed people into and out of its confines.

"Let's look here."

Curt was skeptical, but once they crossed the threshold, his mouth dropped open. As it turned out, a fashion designer, late of London, had taken up residence in the warehouse, catering to a rather elite clientele. Despite its rundown appearance on the outside, the interior was breathtaking.

Brian's eyes widened behind his dark glasses. "What if someone recognizes me?"

"You're *Tommy*, remember?"

"But I haven't had a chance to grow out my hair or-"

Curt led Brian to a relatively dark corner and pinned him against the wall. "The secret to being a star...is learning to behave like one."

"Ugh." Brian made a moue of distaste with his mouth, and Curt had all he could do not to kiss him right there. "Jerry said that."

"Jerry was right."

"I hate Jerry."

"So do I. But that doesn't mean he wasn't right."

"Tommy's not a star, anyway. *You* are, Curt. I'm just your...groupie."

Curt shot Brian an amused look. "Nah, you're better than that, babe. You're my *boyfriend*."

Brian blinked twice before he burst out laughing. "Oh, Curt. Whatever did I do to deserve *that*?"

Curt leaned close and nibbled unobtrusively on Brian's ear. "You fucked me all night long. That's what you did."

"Aren't you afraid someone might see you ravishing me? What'll they think?"

"They'll think I'm hopelessly in love with you. You got a problem with that?"

Brian shook his head. "No," he whispered, tracing a finger along Curt's lower lip. "I love you."

*****

Brian's hair was a minor problem easily rectified by a quick trip to the chemist's. No longer light brown, Brian's hair was now closer to his original color than it had been in years. "This way, when it grows in, it won't even show," Curt explained.

"Think we can go back to the warehouse?" Brian asked, draping a towel over his wet head.

"Not yet. There's one more detail we need to work out."

"What's that?"

"Your voice."

"My voice? How on earth would I change that?"

"Your accent. Right now, you sound English. Can you do an American accent?"

Brian frowned. "No."

They pondered for a few minutes without speaking. Then Brian said, "My aunt."

"What?"

"My aunt. Well, my uncle, actually. He was a bit of a cross-dresser."

"What about her-er, him?"

"Her...*boyfriend*..." Brian said with a brazen roll of his eyes, "was Irish. I can do Irish. I think."

"Cool."

Curt pulled Brian into his arms and kissed him. The towel fell to the floor. Brian smiled. He didn't think they were going to get back to the warehouse today.

Maybe tomorrow.

Then again, there was always the next day.

*****

But to Brian's surprise, not to mention dismay, they did return to the warehouse that day. To Brian's eye, he looked a little different, but not enough to pass as someone else. The thought of going into that warehouse and being exposed as Brian Slade made him cringe inwardly.

But Curt seemed to be reading his mind. He slung an arm around Brian's waist, his hand caressing his lover's hip. He was going to make damn sure no one paid enough attention to Brian to guess that he wasn't Tommy.

The designer, not a bad-looking man himself, sent three of his assistants over to help Curt. They ignored Brian, which Brian was thankful for, and Curt just kept pressing his fingers insistently into Brian's hip, a physical reminder that he would guard him zealously.

"Would you like to remove your clothes?"

"Not really," Curt replied dryly. "Why?"

The prettiest of the three women gave Curt an enigmatic look. "We have to take your...measurements." The way she hesitated over the last word made Curt realize that she was flirting with him. It wasn't annoying, but it was unwanted. Curt decided to mark his territory with a vengeance.

"I'm not the one who needs to be...measured," he said. "It's...Tommy here. He's my...*very* best friend."

The woman raised her eyebrows, her expression clearly saying, I'll just bet he is. But she was a professional and sank to her knees between Brian's legs with aplomb.

"Sir? Could you please...spread?" she asked politely. Now that she had noticed Brian, she apparently thought he was every bit as interesting as Curt.

"Aye," Brian said, stumbling over the Irish inflection. But the woman didn't seem to be aware of anything but his body.

Brian felt like his face was frozen. Thank God he hadn't taken off his dark glasses, even though there was little need for them inside. Her expert fingers crept along his thigh in an effort to measure his inseam.

Suddenly she cupped the bulge between his legs with an uncomfortably familiar grip. "Don't I know you?"

"No!" Brian looked at Curt in horror, but luckily for him, no one but Curt saw his face. Curt shook his head warningly. "Tommy doesn't get out much."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I keep him pretty...busy."

The woman patted Brian's crotch gently, and to Brian's consternation, he started to get hard. "Funny," she said, eyeing his erection, "I never forget a...face."

"Hey," Curt growled, "keep your hands to yourself, lady."

"I'm just doing my job, sir."

"Yeah, well, you're enjoying it a little too much, if you ask me."

The woman grinned. That's when Curt noticed it. The Adam's apple. What the fuck! It wasn't a woman at all. It was a *man*. A fucking cross-dresser. Like Brian's aunt. Uncle. Oh, fuck. Aunt.

*****

They walked out of the warehouse, their arms laden with packages. Brian didn't speak all the way back to the hotel. He was going to look incredible. All that black leather wrapped about his tight, hard body. Jesus, it was an effort for Curt to keep his hands off him as they strolled through the lobby.

It wasn't until they were upstairs that Brian finally spoke again.

Dumping his bags on the bed, Brian turned to Curt with a tortured gaze. "You let that...that...thing molest me."

"Bri-annn...come on. It was funny."

Brian looked stricken. "He had his hands all over me. You said you were going to protect me, Curt. But you let him touch me."

Curt's amusement faded rapidly. "He was just measuring you, baby. Really. Maybe he kidded around a bit, but I'm sure it didn't *mean* anything."

Brian didn't say anything. He just continued to breathe in that vaguely wounded way.

"Brian?"

Brian's eyes filled with tears.

Curt tugged Brian into his arms and pressed his mouth against his neck. "What did your "aunt" do to you, baby? Did she hurt you?" he whispered, feeling the overactive throb of Brian's heart beneath his fingertips.

Something in Brian gave way. He hid his face against Curt's shoulder and clung to him, shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm.

"I'm sorry, baby. You know I love you. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Not now. Not ever again," Curt murmured.

Brian whispered something so faint that Curt could barely make it out. But he caught the important part. "...love you..."

Curt slipped his hand under Brian's shirt and caressed his back. "Sshhh. You're going to love how you look. You're going to be even more beautiful than you already are, Bri."

"You swear?"

"Yeah."

He felt Brian's mouth curve into a smile against his now wet shirt. "Don't swear."

Everything was going to be all right.

End