Chapter 24 - Probity.

Brian was balls deep in a hot little Latino boy, halfway to Nirvana, when he was distracted by the untimely appearance of his least favorite apparition.

“Fuck! You don’t need to hover - I asked his name. It’s Paco!” Brian tried to head off the objection that he suspected was coming.

“Pedro, actually,” the trick corrected, lifting his head up momentarily from where Brian had it smashed up against the wall.

“Pedro. Whatever! It’s not like I actually have to remember this shit. I only have to ask their names, right?” Brian asked the ether, as the trick looked around to try and figure out who he was talking to, but seeing no one. “You can leave now. I was a good little boy. I did what I’m supposed to.”

“You talking to me?” Pedro asked, completely confused.

“No. YOU stay. At least until I’m done fucking you,” Brian insisted, trying to get back into the rhythm of his thrusting.

Justin didn’t budge though. He remained where he was, leaning against the wall less than a foot away from the trick’s shoulder. And, from the disapproving look on the youth’s face, Brian assumed that he had something on his mind.

It was hard to concentrate on fucking with someone staring at you like that, though. Brian tried to just ignore the annoying little blond. He tried to pretend that he couldn’t see the boy or the looks being shot his way. He tried to focus solely on the trick’s tight little brown ass, the aroma of sex that permeated the backroom and the erotic sounds of the other men fucking and sucking around him. Normally that was a pretty heady combination and would be all Brian needed to get him in the mood for fucking. Especially after he’d had four or five shots and a hit of E, like he’d had tonight. But this time none of that seemed to be working. Not with Saint Peter standing over him, scowling and staring wordlessly.

When he just simply couldn’t stand it anymore, Brian pulled out of Pepito’s ass, turned to face the apparently blank stretch of wall and demanded, “WHAT?”

“I didn’t say a thing, Brian,” the unsmiling guardian spirit replied in a calm and even tone.

“Then why are you here? Leave me the fuck alone so I can fuck Pablo already.”

“It’s Pedro, you ass. And who the hell are you talking to, Kinney?” The trick seemed like he was getting a bit fed up with the Stud’s erratic behavior, not to mention the continual interruptions to his fuck.

“I’m not talking to anybody! *Hah!* That’s the really hilarious part of all this. There’s nobody there!” Brian laughed mirthlessly as he gestured to the empty wall space where he’d been aiming his comments. “You’re not even here. Are you, blond boy? So why are you still hanging around and giving me shit? Huh? Why? Just leave me the fuck alone already. I don’t need you or your fucking stupid advice! I just want to fuck Pancho and then go have a few more drinks and then fuck some other guy and then have some more drinks and . . . Well, you get the idea, right? What part of that do you NOT understand?”

“Fuck this! I’m outta here,” Pedro pulled his pants up and shouldered past Brian on his way to the exit. “You’ve got some serious mental health issues, man. Get help.”

“Shit! See what you’ve done now?” Brian yelled, loudly, at the wall. “Pepe’s ass was perfect too. Nice and tight. Now I’ve got to go find another trick, damn you!”

“Uh . . . You okay, Kinney?” Todd asked, coming over to him and laying a kind hand on the obviously disturbed man's shoulder while the top who’d been fucking Todd a moment earlier looked on with annoyance. “Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink or something? You want me to get somebody to call you a cab?”

“No. I don’t need a cab. I need Pueblo to get his ass back over here so I can finish fucking him. And I need another Beam. And another hit of E,” Brian’s outburst was fading out as he looked around him and noticed just how many people were standing around staring at him by this point. Finally he ended his ranting, his voice dropping to a mere mumble, “And maybe an exorcist or something to get rid of the fucking evil spirit haunting me.” But he didn’t resist any longer as Todd gently led him out of the backroom towards the main bar.

“You don’t NEED any of that, Brian. And I’m not evil, so the exorcist wouldn’t help,” Justin commented dryly. “Besides, I’ve told you I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well give up on that wish. You definitely don’t need anything more to drink either. All you really need to do is stop for a minute and think about why you’re so upset that you feel getting drunk and high and fucking yourself into oblivion is such a good idea. If you do that, then I’ll leave you be.”

“I’m not upset about anything, so fuck off!” Brian insisted angrily, as he waved the bartender over and demanded another shot.

“I didn’t say you were, Kinney,” Todd responded, continuing to look at the man he’d known for several years, but who he’d never seen acting like this. “Did you take something? Acid, maybe? Cause I think you’re having a really bad trip, man. Should we get you to the hospital or something?”

*ARGH!!!!* Brian yelled, protesting the unfairness of the world, the annoying kindness of random acquaintances and, even more, the vagaries of fate that had unfairly saddled him with an exceptionally interfering guardian spirit who wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone. “I’m fine, Todd. Really. You should go back to your fuck already and leave me alone. I’ll be okay as soon as I’ve had a few more drinks.”

Todd reluctantly allowed himself to be towed back to the bowels of the backroom by the waiting top and Brian finally relaxed a little as he sipped at his drink. He couldn’t believe he’d let Justin get to him so bad that he’d been arguing with the invisible imp in front of the whole fucking club. Justin could get him so angry, though. He seemed to know just which buttons to push. Fucking guardian angels . . . were they all so fucking stubborn?

He knew that he wasn’t likely to get anywhere arguing with Justin. The boy just never quit when he thought he had a point that needed to be made. It was best to just let him get on with it, so Brian grabbed his drink and moved off to the far end of the bar. There usually weren’t many guys standing down at that end because it was too dark to see much and you couldn’t pick up guys if you couldn’t be seen. It was a perfect place to stand, though, if you wanted to spend a few minutes talking to your invisible childhood friend without exposing the fact that you were totally crazy. He didn’t have to turn around to know that Justin was following right on his tail.

“Fine. You obviously want to get something off your chest, so talk already,” Brian announced when he thought he was far enough away from any listening ears that he could have a conversation with his spirit guide and not be overheard.

“I’ve got nothing to say. It’s you that needs to talk, Brian,” Justin stated plainly. “You need to be honest about why you ran away from Deb’s house and came directly here to start on your latest, greatest drinking and fucking binge. That’s all I’m asking. If you can do that, then I’ll butt out.”

“I’m ALWAYS fucking honest, Sunshine!” Brian spat back angrily, cock sure about that statement. “I’ve never given a fuck what anyone thinks about me. I am who I am. If somebody doesn’t like that, it’s their problem. So don’t give me crap about ‘being honest’.”

“Oh, you’re honest alright. At least when it comes to other people’s lives and motives. And, to a certain extent, to yourself and who you are. You’re not ashamed of being gay or anything. But when it comes to your emotions - your feelings - you lie to yourself every single day.” Justin crossed his arms over his chest and stared Brian down, daring him to dispute the truth. “You constantly run away from your emotions and hide from anything that’s going to demand that you take a stand about your feelings. THAT’S why you ran away from Debbie’s tonight. Admit it! You got fucking scared by Lindsey asking you to help them have a child. You were so piss-in-your-pants scared that you literally ran away. That’s why you’re here right now drinking and fucking - so you can forget the fact that you got scared. Because you can’t admit to yourself that you actually have emotions like fear.”

As Justin was speaking, Brian’s anger had slowly sputtered out, leaving him feeling lost and vulnerable. His eyes dropped till he was staring at his shot glass, unable to meet the blond accuser’s gaze. He bit at his lower lip, worrying the tender flesh, as he unsuccessfully tried to think up some way to refute the allegations being lobbed at him.

“You know, it wouldn’t be so bad having a miniature copy of you around. Lindsey was right about you guys making beautiful babies. You were so fucking adorable when you were little. I wanted to steal you away from the hospital that first night I saw you,” Justin moved closer and his voice dropped to a hush that was only barely audible above the loud club music. “I’m sure any child of yours would be absolutely gorgeous.”

“I’m sure I’d be a terrible father, though,” Brian replied, still not looking anywhere except at his now empty shot glass.

“Why do you think that?”

“I don't know shit about being a parent. Just look at the lousy fucking examples I learned from. I . . . I couldn’t do that to a kid. If I ended up being like Jack . . .” Brian’s voice broke and then he scrunched up his eyes, turned his back on Justin and slammed the shot glass down on the bar so hard it almost shattered.

“You’re not your father, Brian,” Justin insisted, grabbing ahold of Brian’s arm with a remarkably strong grip for someone who wasn’t really there. “You could never be like Jack. Ever! You’d be a good father, Brian. I know it. You have a good heart. It doesn’t matter what examples you grew up with. You would never be like that.”

“You don’t know that,” Brian answered, his voice carrying a note of pleading, as if begging the boy who’d been his guide all his life to tell him differently.

It took no thought at all for Justin to rush to affirm everything Brian wanted to hear. “I DO know it, Brian. I know you. I’ve watched you grow up and I KNOW you would never, ever, hurt a child.” Justin cupped Brian’s chin with one hand, causing the man to finally look up into blue eyes which, even in the low lights of the club, still somehow shown brightly. “Just think about it, okay? You’d be helping out Lindz and Mel - who’d be the primary parents - which is a good thing in and of itself. And I think it would be good for you, too, Brian. It would give you something to tie you to life. Something to tie you to now.”

Brian tried to look away again, but that tender yet firm hand curled around his jaw wouldn’t let him. Without saying more, Justin somehow still conveyed a wealth of words with his gaze and the caress of his thumb against Brian’s cheek. Before he knew it, Brian found himself leaning into that gentle touch, his eyelids lowering so he could better concentrate on the sensation. It was a touch that was so intimate, in ways that all the myriad of other men who touched his body could never be. The kind of touch that no one else in Brian’s life had ever given him, at least not as long as he could remember. A touch that radiated kindness and, dare he admit it even to himself, love. And despite his staunch avowals that Brian Kinney didn’t believe in love, it seemed that his body understood the sentiment and maybe even longed for it.

“Brian! There you are. What the hell are you doing hiding out over here in the dark?” Michael’s boisterous greeting burst through the bubble of peace that had momentarily enveloped Brian and Justin even in the club full of people.

Brian blinked, sighed, and then finally tore his eyes away from Justin so that he could acknowledge his very insistent friend. “Hey, Mikey. What took you so long?”

“Ma made me stay and help clean up after dinner. What a pain in the ass . . .” Michael proceeded to regale Brian with a recap of the part of the evening he’d missed after his precipitate exit, all the details of the rest of the dinner conversation as well as tales of his post-dinner housekeeping woes at Debbie’s hands.

Brian let Michael tow him back down to the more populated end of the bar and sipped at the new drink that Michael ordered for him. He wasn’t really listening to Mikey’s diatribe though - he rarely actually listened to that sort of drivel. Instead, he let his mind wander over the prior conversation with Justin.

A baby? What the fuck? Were they all serious? Him, a father? What the hell did he know about being a father?

Justin, who was still there leaning against the bar just behind where Michael was standing, kept looking at him intently the entire time, seemingly able to hear Brian’s thoughts.

~**~**~**~

“Fucking incompetent idiots! Get the hell out of my office until at least one of the two of you grows a brain sufficient to support human life!” Brian’s not-so-dulcet tones were echoing all the way from his office to the lobby area of Ryder Advertising when Winnie stepped off the elevator.

The elegant young photojournalist was still quietly laughing to herself as two shamefaced men rushed out of the Lion’s Den and blew past her - no doubt on their way to grow those brains Brian Kinney had ordered. Brian's assistant, Cynthia, was standing next to her desk and watching Bob and Brad’s retreat with a contemptuous sneer on her own countenance as Winnie walked up. Whatever ‘The Fuck Up Twins’ - Brian’s nickname for his least favorite copywriters - had done wrong this time, it must have been a doozy.

“Afternoon, Cynthia,” Winnie greeted the haughty young personal assistant whom she had come to know fairly well over the years. “Is it safe to go in and see His Highness, or would I be taking my life in my hands? After that little show, I’m not sure.”

“I think YOU’RE probably safe, Winnie,” Cynthia chuckled and winked at the petite brunette who had been Brian’s friend since high school. “Besides, seeing you would probably be good for him. He’s been on a tear around here lately. If somebody doesn’t do something soon, even I might tell him to go fuck himself. You’re probably the only one who’s not too scared of him to take him on - so, please, be my guest.”

“You make a visit with my old friend sound so appealing . . .” Winnie joked, “But, I’ll see what I can do. If I’m not out in fifteen minutes, though, send in the search and rescue team.”

“Will do!” Cynthia smiled and gestured towards the door as she resumed her seat at the big desk outside Brian’s office. “Good luck!”

“Just in case you want to rethink your entrance, I'm prepared to commit homicide if whatever you've come to talk to me about isn't a matter of life or death,” the irate voice inside the office announced when Winnie rapped her knuckles on the wood of the door frame.

When Brian's dire threat was met with nothing more than a chuckle, he actually looked up from the pile of paperwork he'd been trudging through.

“Brian Kinney - still as charming as ever, I see,” Winnie teased as she marched into the dragon's lair, completely disregarding all threats of bodily harm.

“I don't have to be charming with the help. Only with the clients. And THEY all love me,” Brian grinned as he stood up to greet his visitor with a kiss to her smooth cheek. “So, what brings Winnie Taylor all the way downtown today? Shouldn't you be out taking pictures of traffic accidents or the latest meth lab bust?”

“Yeah, you know, if you've seen one meth lab in a childcare center, you've seen ‘em all,” Winnie replied disdainfully. “But that's not why I'm here. I actually came by to have lunch with my Uncle Marty . . . and to drop off this.”

Brian accepted the heavy cream-colored vellum envelope she held out to him with hesitation and a distrustful look. “If this is another invitation to the Monongahela Men’s Club, ‘Fall Into Fun Orgy’, sorry, but I’ve already got my tickets.”

“Alas, no,” Winnie chortled gleefully at her irreverent friend. “Although, if you have an extra ticket, I probably wouldn’t mind coming to watch. It sounds very educational.”

“Oh, you’d be educated, alright. But I doubt your boyfriend would approve,” Brian chuckled as well, looking at his old friend with one gracefully raised eyebrow, before he turned his attention back to opening the large and scary envelope.

“He’s not my ‘boyfriend’ anymore,” Winnie replied, causing Brian to look up with a quizzical look - only to be directed with a smiling nod back to the missive in his hands. “He’s my fiancé.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Gareth Fairchild Taylor, cordially request the honor of your gracious presence at the marriage of their daughter, Bronwyn . . .” Brian began to read the text of the card inside aloud, then paused to rapidly peruse the rest of the invitation to himself. “Why, Miss Taylor, am I to believe that you’re gettin’ yourself hitched? You mean you’ve finally gotten over your unrequited crush on little 'ole me? I’m devastated.”

“Sorry, Bri, but I just couldn’t wait any longer for you to come to your senses. I have to move on and try to find some kind of happiness without you. I hope you’ll understand,” the girl assumed a wistful, dreamy look, which subsequently dissolved into giggles that were echoed by Brian’s deeper laughter. “Well, that and Jon finally proposed and I can’t wait to marry the big lug.”

“Took him long enough. That guy’s been head over heels for you since we were all in high school,” Brian commented, as he laid aside the wedding invitation.

“Yeah, well, when it comes to love and commitment and other squishy emotional things, he’s a bit of a slow learner,” Winnie agreed, finally allowing herself to sag into the guest chair in front of Brian’s desk. “Not unlike someone else I know but will refrain from naming . . . Mr. 28-And-Never-Had-A-Real-Relationship Kinney.”

“I’ll thank you not to use such disgusting language in my presence, Ms. Taylor. You know I can’t stand to even hear the ‘R’ word,”

“Seriously, Brian! You are getting a bit old to still be playing the Club Boy, aren’t you? You’re only a little more than a year from hitting the big 3-0. I’d think even you would eventually start thinking about slowing down and finding someone special to spend your life with. I know you pretty much constantly surround yourself with fawning admirers, but don't you ever feel lonely? I know I would if I were in the same situation.”

Winnie leaned back in the chair, falling silent as she surveyed the visage of the man she’d called her friend for more than a decade now. He was still as beautiful as the first day she’d met him on that soccer field their senior year. But he was even more closed off and solitary than he’d been then. Which was saying a lot since Brian had always been reserved and aloof. To those who really knew him or took the time to look closely enough, he radiated a blaring sense of loneliness that was staggering. Why was it always the most gregarious, outgoing and superficially happy people who seemed the saddest underneath?

Brian didn’t bother responding to his visitor’s concerned statements. For one thing he didn’t really know what to say. He wouldn’t lie to her - not when she’d asked him such a direct question. But he also wasn’t going to admit she was right. And, even if he had known what to say, why bother saying it. There wasn’t any point. His life was what it was. He didn’t think it was going to change, so why complain?

When the silence had stretched out long enough that it was dampening the atmosphere of the entire room, Winnie sighed, gathered her purse and stood back up. She should have known that Brian Kinney wasn’t going to bare his soul to her. It didn’t matter that she considered him a friend. Brian didn’t let anyone get in that far, friend or no.

“Well, whatever. Just know that if you ever need to talk - or need a friend who’d be fabulous at playing matchmaker - I’m always available.” Winnie managed to end the conversation with a joke that relieved at least some of the tension. “Oh, and before you try to find some lame excuse for why you won’t come to my wedding - get over it. Uncle Marty will expect to see you there so don’t even try it. And, just in case you change your mind, that invite is a ‘plus one’ if you DO happen to decide to bring a date.”

“Now, why would I do that?” Brian stood up to buss the check of the woman before she could leave. “If I brought a date, it would only interfere with my plans to fuck all your ushers during the reception.”

The usually prim and proper young lady snorted with laughter at that very Kinney-like pronouncement. It certainly didn’t look like Brian was likely to change any time soon. So much for good intentions, right?

“I’ll tell Jon to warn all his friends,” Winnie promised, kissing the strong cheek of her friend in goodbye. “See you, Brian. Be good!”

“Never!”

The blond apparition that had been lounging on the couch through this whole interview got up as soon as Winnie had marched through the door, repositioning himself so as to perch on the edge of Brian’s desk. Brian didn’t comment. He was getting used to the always present presence. Besides, he was still too busy perusing the elegant invitation and mulling over the words of wisdom his old friend had left him with. As Brian fingered the edge of the crisp creamy stationery with a look of deep introspection, Justin couldn’t help but reach out and caress the side of the older man’s face with a slow intimate gesture. Brian leaned into the touch - the way he was doing more and more often these days - and the tender moment caused a pang of sentiment in the guardian's tender heart.

“You wanna be my plus one, Sunshine?” Brian asked ingenuously, reaching out to pull the slight frame of the boy off the desk and into his lap.

Justin was stunned into silence by the unforeseen and intimate move.

“At least with you I don’t have to pretend. You don’t expect anything. You don’t have any illusions that I’m suddenly going to turn into some great big romantic fool who’ll actually know what the fuck to do on a date,” Brian proposed, smiling a self-deprecatory little grin. “And when I do go off and leave you to fuck the usher, you won’t give me shit . . . As long as I ask his name first, right?”

“Brian . . .” Justin sighed, unsure whether he could even try to talk to the man again or if he should just give it up as a lost cause.

“Ah, come on, Sunshine,” Brian teased, his saddened look morphing into something teasing and impish. “You know you love me, no matter how much I get you going.”

And then the infuriatingly intuitive man did the last thing that Justin had expected of him. He lifted Justin’s chin with one sure and steady hand, leaned in and expertly claimed the full, cotton-candy pink lips of the boy sitting in his lap with a long, slow, intense kiss that went on and on for longer than would have been possible if Justin actually needed to breathe.

Justin didn’t say anything. He didn’t resist. He didn’t know how. Despite his lengthy existence on this plane, this WAS his very first real kiss, and he didn’t have a clue how to respond. Well, other than to kiss back. Enthusiastically. And revel in the feelings that the man holding him engendered. And eagerly open up when Brian demanded entrance with his tongue. And keep on kissing and biting and licking at the mouth that was claiming him, without any thought of the consequences, for countless minutes.

Because this is what Justin was always meant to do. He was supposed to be with Brian. It was their fate.

Why would he of all people fight fate?

Especially when it felt so incredibly good.

~**~**~**~**~